


Trapped in Rowling

by H E Vaughn (lunarity2013)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, OC from our Universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:18:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 41,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6937492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarity2013/pseuds/H%20E%20Vaughn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rosie just wanted to get away from it all...She never meant to be thrown down a well and end up right in the middle of her favorite series. Now that she's landed in the Weasley's backyard, and told Dumbledore about the books she read, she has a chance to go to Hogwarts and become the witch she always wanted to be. But things are not quite what they seem. As time goes on, she'll find herself trying her best to save the people she lost in the books, but will she be successful? Or will she become too absorbed in her own drama - learning magic, fighting evil, and even falling in love - to be able to help anyone but herself? She knows she'll eventually have to find her way back, but will she return to a world that hates her, or stay at Hogwarts to try to save the characters she's come to love, some more than others? (FredxOC) From Chamber of Secrets until the very end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Down the Well

**Author's Note:**

> I also post this story on my FFN account (link on my profile). I update that one more regularly, although if I decide later on to up the rating and write any mature scenes, I'll post them solely on here.  
> Also, I have a Polyvore account, where I have designed some outfits for Rosie, if some of you are interested in checking it out! It's [Trapped in Rowling](http://www.polyvore.com/trapped_in_rowling/collection?id=4881504)  
> I hope you all enjoy! :3  
> -H. E. Vaughn  
> (Lunarity2013)

Y'know, in all 14 years of my life, I've learned a few important things; stand up for what you believe in, always be yourself, and most important:

Being alone sucks.

* * *

I could feel the migraine forming as I slammed the door of our little flat and walked out into the rain. So cliché, I had thought, with such rain after what had just happened; I should've realized it was meant as foreshadowing of things to come. The streets of Atlanta were busy – as always – so I started walking along towards the small playground of the school nearby, where I usually went when I needed to blow off a little steam.

It happened often enough, going off on my own at nearly midnight; it wasn’t very safe, but I never thought anything of it because I had always believed that anything bad that could happen wouldn’t happen to me. I suppose that was my own fault, thinking I was invincible, and it only led to the situation I find myself in now.

My parents and I hardly ever agreed on anything. They wanted me to be perfect: smart, popular, pretty… like my sister, Violet. But I wasn't. I wasn't dumb, but I was lazy; I had plenty of friends, but they were just as outcast as I was; and I was identical to my sister, but was tired of being compared to and mistaken for her, so I had dyed my hair pink. I was their mistake, in all senses of the word.

And they never let me forget it.

I sat on the swing, sobs wracking my frame; I had held in the tears as long as I could. I hated it, hated them… hated everything. Why couldn't life be like my books, or the movies? At least then, when life got too bad, I could just fly off to Never-land, or have tea with the Mad Hatter, or even fight Voldemort alongside my literary heroes. But alas, I was trapped in this cruel life fate had granted me.

Or so I thought…

A dark chuckle echoed behind me, and I froze. Who else would be out here at night, and in this weather? I stood up slowly, glancing all around me; I hadn’t thought anyone else would be out at this hour, or at least not anyone that would mess with me - like I said before, I thought those sort of things only happened on the news.

"My dad's a cop!" I called out, glaring into the shadows surrounding me. I heard the chortle again and turned, coming face to face with an elderly man, hunched under a burgundy cloak. It was getting harder to see, as the rain began to pour down harder, but I could just barely make out a strange necklace he wore; it almost looked like a plant root, but with a human's tormented face.

"So you say, and yet, you know you'd never ask for his help, would you, Rosie?" his voice rasped in a deep, almost British accent. I stared at him incredulously, taking a step back.

"Who are you? How do you know my name?" I asked, and he looked up at me, one eye swollen shut and a toothless grin on his face.

"That isn't of importance at the moment," he replied, stepping closer, "What _is_ important, however, is what you want. Do you _really_ wish to be free of this world, and live a life of adventure and _magic_?" The hairs on the back of my neck stood up; _how did he know that?_ I frowned at him, reaching for the taser in my pocket.

"I'll ask you one more time…" This time he laughed outright, though I could barely hear it as the sky thundered; the weather was beginning to look much worse.

"Oh, Rosie, Rosie, you won't be needing that!" He waved his bony hand, and my taser flew from my fingers and into his grasp. I gasped, backing up until I hit something, glancing to see an old wishing well behind me.

"How did you-"

"Now, now, settle down, dearie," he waved me off, rummaging through a small bag he pulled from under his cloak, "Let's see here…yes, it seems that everything is in perfect order." He shuffled over to me, muttering under his breath.

"No, stay away from me!" I shouted, trying to press myself as far back as I could against the stone. He tittered again, coming up to my shoulder as he reached me.

"Don't be like that, come on," He snatched my hand in his leathery one, wrapping the strings of the bag firmly around my wrist. He then grabbed hold of my shoulders, gripping tightly as he stared into my eyes.

"Always remember, Miss McIntosh," he started as the storm picked up all around us, toothless grin never leaving his face, "Fate does not control you. _You_ control _it_! Not everything is written in stone, and you can't believe everything that you read in books. Now, off you go!" He pushed me backwards, knocking me over the wall and into the well. I screamed, reaching up with my unbound hand to grab onto something, but was falling too fast. The old man leaned over the edge, waving down to me.

"Best of luck, dearie!" he called, and soon faded from my view. I tried to call out again, only to be cut off when my head began throbbing. Everything began to sound as though I was underwater, and my vision began to spot before blurring entirely to black.

* * *

I could hear stifled murmurs around me as I came to, but my eyes remained shut. I tried to run through everything that had happened, but only got so far as storming out of the house before I blanked; what had happened to me? I struggled to focus myself, straining to decipher the words around me.

"Do you think she's alright?" one voice asked. It was male, and young, coated with a thick British accent.

"Oh come off it, Ron, she fell nearly a hundred feet," another answered him, also male, sharing the same accent.

"Don't get too close," a third shouted from a ways off, "She could be dangerous!" Someone scoffed.

"Oh yes, Percy, because a girl with pink hair could be deadly if mistreated," the second person replied, though his voice sounded slightly lower in pitch.

"You never know!" the third yelled back, irritated, "She could be working with… Death Eaters, or something!” I groaned lightly, my eyebrows scrunching up. _Death Eaters? Just how hard did I hit my head?_

"Boys, look," another voice added into the mix, this one female, "I think she's waking up! Go get Mum and Dad!" I tried desperately to open my eyes, finally managing to crack them open enough to see the blurred faces of a bunch of redheads surrounding me.

"Look, Georgie, she's kinda cute!" the one closest on my right said to the boy next to him. I blinked again, clearing my vision enough to find that they were identical, and looked close to my age.

"Who are you guys?" I asked, my voice scratchy, "Where am I?" The group exchanged looks, looking shocked and confused. I heard a slam, and sat up to see an older man and woman, also red-haired, exit a very tall, mix-and-match house and begin running in my direction.

"Everyone back in the house, now," he man ordered, ignoring the protests coming from the twins beside me. The kids all began heading inside the house, leaving me with the two adults. I looked between them, confusion etched into my features; why did all of this seem so familiar?

"Are you alright, dear?" the woman asked, and I turned to face her fully.

"Who are you?" I asked, looking up at the man, "What is this place?" They looked to each other for a moment, before turning back to me.

"Well, I'm Arthur Weasley," the man replied, "and this is my wife, Molly. And this is our home, the Burrow..." My eyes widened, and I began looking around frantically, hoping it was all a joke. _Have I finally gone completely insane?_

"What's your name, dearie?" Mrs. Weasley questioned, bringing my attention back to her. I took a deep breath.

"Rosie. Rosie McIntosh." _And I'm gonna kill that old man..._


	2. Meanings in the Leaves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosie's arrived at the Burrow, but now she'll have to explain how she got there. Will she tell the Weasleys the truth?

The inside of the Burrow was much friendlier than I could have ever imagined. The furniture was all mismatched, but truly, it only added to the character of the place; it made it feel...warm and, in a way, safe.

I was currently situated on a striped love-seat in what I assumed was the den, twirling a long, pink curl around my finger. My hair and clothes, for some strange reason, were completely dry; it was as if I had never gone out in the storm at all.

I could hear Mr. Weasley telling the others to stay upstairs, while Mrs. Weasley shuffled out of the kitchen towards me, a tray floating closely behind. My eyes widened at the sight. _Is that_ real _magic?_ I wondered, _Or am I being punked?_

“Tea, dear?” she asked, and I quickly wiped the shocked look from my face as best I could. The tray lowered in front of me displaying a mix-matched china tea set, smelling strongly of the black tea within the pot. I could feel a scratch in my throat, only now realizing how parched I was. I nodded vigorously.

“Yes, please,” I replied, watching the pot pour the tea into a blue cup all on its own, cream and sugar mixing themselves in; I took it graciously, thanking her before taking a sip. She smiled.

"Well, that settles that," Mr. Weasley said, returning downstairs. He walked over to me, and both he and Mrs. Weasley sat across from me on a blue floral couch. I took another sip of my tea before setting the cup back on the - still floating - tray.

"Now dearie," Mrs. Weasley started, leaning forward slightly, "do you think you can tell us just how you managed to land in our yard?" I shrugged, shaking my head.

"Believe me, if I knew, I'd tell you..." I sighed, wringing my hands as I looked down at my lap, "All I can remember is that I was in the park around midnight when some old man in a cloak showed up, tied a bag around my wrist, and shoved me down a well." Mr. Weasley nodded, brows furrowed.

"I see," he murmured, "That's an interesting accent you have. Where are you from?" I looked up, confused.

 _Accent? What accent?_ I thought, _Oh yeah, that's right, I have one of those..._

"I'm from the United States," I replied, "Atlanta, actually. And honestly, I’ve never been outside of the states before now." Their eyes widened at this, an excited gleam catching in Mr. Weasley's eyes.

"The states?" he said, and I nodded, "Really? That's incredible, I don't think I've ever met a witch or wizard from the states before." I froze, wondering if I had heard right. _A witch?_ Then it hit me; where I was, who they were, it all made sense now:

 _I'm in the Potterverse...but how?_ I would’ve thought I might have figured it out sooner, like perhaps when I first noticed the house that nearly resembled a wooden version of the Tower of Pisa, or the family made up entirely of gingers, or the fact that _their name is Weasley_. I wondered again just how hard I might’ve hit my head to not immediately recognize the family from my favorite book series - which, apparently, isn’t just a book series anymore.

I must have been out of it for a while, because next thing I knew, my hosts were calling out to me again. I chuckled nervously, brushing a flamboyant strand of hair behind my ear.

"Is everything alright?" Mrs. Weasley asked slowly, keeping her concerned gaze locked on me. I chewed my lip, losing myself in thought again.

_Should I tell them? I know I can trust them, but what happens when they find out I'm a muggle? Well, I can't just keep it from them! They might be able to help me figure out why I'm here anyway..._

"Honestly, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," I started with a sigh, "I'm not quite sure...how I can be a witch...without magic..." They stared at me for a moment, shocked.

“Without magic?” Mr. Weasley asked, his words taking on a slightly more suspicious tone. I shrugged, shifting nervously in my seat.

“As far as I know, yeah...”

“Well, that would make you a squib, yes?” Mrs. Weasley interjected, looking from me, to her husband, then back to me again. I started braiding a strand of my hair by my face, looking down at my lap as I searched for the right words.

“Not exactly…” I muttered, glancing nervously up at them to see hesitant confusion cross both of their faces. I sighed again, looking up at the ceiling far above the top of the stairs. _This is going to be a loooooong story…_ “Best I start at the beginning, yeah?”

* * *

“So, if what you say is true, and we’re somehow all characters in book you’ve read, how did you come to be here?” Mrs. Weasley asked, frowning slightly. Mr. Weasley had left as soon as I had finished my story, deciding to send their owl, Errol, with a note to Professor Dumbledore discussing my...situation. I laughed once, humorlessly, at the question.

“To be honest, I’m still half-convinced that I’m going to wake up at the bottom of that well with a major concussion at any moment.” I ran my hand through my hair, feeling the back of my head; there was a small bump near the top, but it thankfully didn’t hurt too much when my fingers grazed it. _But whatever the reason, they don’t seem to be “just characters in a book” anymore…_

“Well, regardless, I’m sure Professor Dumbledore will have some ideas,” Mr. Weasley stated as he re-entered the room, “if anyone can help find a solution for you, it’s him. Great man, that Dumbledore.” I nodded, half-smiling at him as I returned to drinking my tea.

“I know he is,” I whispered. Now all that was left was to sit around and wait for him to get here. Mrs. Weasley left for a moment, disappearing up the stairs. She returned with the twins and a younger boy - Fred, George, and Ron - in tow, pushing them out towards the door in the kitchen - which I assumed led to the garden.

“But Mum-” they began protesting, stealing glances at me as they passed. She wasn’t fazed by their whining, continuing to shove them out of the room and outside.

“No buts, Professor Dumbledore will be here any minute, and my garden is FULL of gnomes! I won’t stand for it! You lot will be spending the next hour de-gnoming, or so help me, it’ll be bed without supper tonight!” I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to hide my amused smile as they stepped outside to begin their work. Mrs. Weasley closed the door behind them, then quickly moved to the other side of the kitchen to begin cooking.

“Professor Dumbledore will be here soon,” Mr. Weasley said, drawing my attention back to him, “In the meantime, do make yourself at home. Everything works out, you’re welcome to stay for dinner; Molly loves to cook for guests.“ I smiled and nodded to him, then glanced down at my tea cup as he left the room. I swirled the cup around three times - as I remembered from online readings about tessomancy.

There was almost no liquid left, so I felt no need to drain it as I looked at the remaining leaves within the cup. I wasn’t ever much good at being able to see things in the leaves when I’d tried this before, but this time I was able to see two fairly clear symbols in the leaves - an axe, and a bush - though, for the life of me, I couldn’t recall what they meant. I did, however, recognize a third symbol near the handle: an umbrella.

 _Crack!_ I snapped from my thoughts at the loud sound, and looked up to see Mrs. Weasley scurry quickly from the stove to glance out the window. She gasped, looking to me.

“He’s here,” she whispered, and I stood, quickly placing the cup back on the tray before it floated itself into the kitchen and began cleaning in the sink. I felt my pulse begin to race - I knew I was nervous, but it felt worse than it was; I was only moments away from meeting Albus Dumbledore, the greatest sorcerer in the world! Mrs. Weasley smiled at me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“No need to worry, dear. Everything will be fine.” I smiled back at her, then squared my shoulders and stood taller as she went to let him in. I took a deep breath, and thought back on the umbrella I had seen in the tea cup, and it’s meaning; it had been open. _A need for shelter…_

_And shelter has been found._


	3. An Unexpected Explanation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore's arrived. Will he be able to tell us how Rosie got here?

Steeling myself up for meeting him did nothing to prepare me for or help how I felt when he was finally standing before me. I stiffened as he crossed the threshold - not even two steps in, and I could already feel the powerful aura surrounding this man. This man had power beyond anything I had ever seen before, or was likely to ever see again… though, you wouldn’t tell that from first glance.

He didn’t quite look like Michael Gambon, or Richard Harris either - rather, he seemed to be a strange combination of the two, with the longer hair and beard of the first two movies’ Dumbledore, and a spring in his step, not unlike Gambon appeared to have. He stood at nearly six feet tall, I thought, as he was at least a head taller than myself. His robes were a deep purple that shimmered like the night sky when he moved, and his half-moon glasses rested low on his long, crooked nose. His clear blue eyes sparkled kindly, and with just a hint of mischief hiding beneath their surface. He smiled, a little crooked like his nose, but with nothing but kindness and… amusement? My eyes widened.

_Oh god, I’ve been standing here staring like a creep!_

“Calm yourself, Miss McIntosh, after what Arthur has told me, I can understand your shock.” Professor Dumbledore spoke in a soft, lightly teasing tone, snapping me out of my daze.

“Sorry, sir,” I replied, bowing my head slightly, “it’s still just a lot to… take in.” He chuckled.

“Yes, I figured as much,” he replied before gesturing to the couches behind me, “Shall we continue this discussion in the sitting room? Molly? Arthur?” Mr. and Mrs. Weasley moved around us, leading myself and Dumbledore back into the living - sorry, _sitting_ room. I sat myself back down on the loveseat, the Weasleys across on the couch, and the three of us turned slightly to face the puffy, patchwork armchair that the Hogwarts Headmaster had seated himself in. He sank down into the cushion, and I had to stifle my giggles as he began bouncing slightly in his seat.

“Well, this is certainly a very comfortable chair,” he mused, “I must get myself one for my office at the school; my current chair is far too stiff - not good my back, you see.” He sat himself back up, and folded his hands on his knees, facing me. “Now, Miss McIntosh-” He was interrupted by a loud banging sound from outside, and all our heads shot to the window, where we could see a flash of red hair duck down below the sill. Mrs. Weasley nearly growled.

“Excuse me, Professor,” she said, standing up and heading out into the garden. We watched as she marched over to the other side of the window, grabbing the twins by the ears and dragging them away, her lecturing of their actions muffled by the walls of the house. Mr. Weasley and I turned back to face Dumbledore, who was smiling at their antics.

“You were saying, sir?” I asked, my nerves returning as I twirled a piece of pink hair around my finger. He turned back to us.

“Yes, Miss McIntosh, Arthur tells me arrived with a bag, yes?” I nodded. “Have you checked what is inside it yet?” Shaking my head, he gestured for me to proceed. I looked to the bag sitting on the coffee table in front of me. It _seemed_ harmless enough - white and black, with a drawstring on the top and a zipper pocket in the front. I reached out, taking the bag in my hands. Being extremely cautious, I pulled the biggest pocket open as far as it would go, peeked inside…

...and saw the bottom of the bag.

“There’s nothing in it,” I whispered, frowning as I looked closer to make sure I didn’t miss a slip of paper or something, but didn’t see anything. _Is this some kind of joke?_

“Are you certain of that?” I looked up to see Dumbledore staring at me, his eyebrows raised, “Have you tried... _reaching_ inside?” I looked back to the bag - _there is no way something could be hiding in that tiny little thing!_ \- but slowly reached my hand in anyway, and waited to touch the bottom.

But I didn’t feel the bottom of the bag. Instead, I felt my jaw drop open as my arm continued down until the bag was up to my shoulder, feeling around for whatever might be hiding in its depths. _The undetectable extension charm!_

My fingers grasped onto what felt like a handle, and I began pulling the mystery item up and out into the open. The handle turned out to be connected to a - rather large - off-white trunk, which plopped heavily into my lap. Looking up to see Mr. Weasley and Dumbledore still watching me, I opened the latch and lifted the lid.

The inside of the truck looked as if my closet had puked all over it; nearly all of the clothes I currently owned were folded neatly into stacks and separated by both tops and bottoms as well as by season. Carefully lifting a corner of one stack, I could see multiple pairs of shoes resting on the bottom of the trunk. In between two different pairs was a small box - my old jewelry box that I’d had for years.

“It’s...my clothes,” I said, staring back up at Dumbledore. He nodded once, glancing back to the bag at my side.

“And is there anything else in the bag?” I shrugged, closing the lid on the trunk and gently dropped in on the floor in front of me. I picked up the bag again, sticking my arm in as far as I could to reach for anything else that might be hiding. Feeling nothing, I retracted my arm and looked at the bag again.

_The zipper…_ I opened the tiny pocket - which, thankfully, wasn’t enchanted - and pulled out an old, ornate key and a folded piece of paper.

“That looks like a Gringotts key…” Mr. Weasley said, holding his hand out as I passed the key to him before unfolding the paper, “D’you suppose it opens one of the vaults?”

“Yup,” I replied, staring down at the paper in my hands. I turned the paper around to face them. It read, in scrawling cursive:

**Vault 256**

“Ah, well that explains it then,” Mr. Weasley and I both looked to Dumbledore, ”It seems that whoever it was you saw that night has meant for you to not only come here, but for you to stay as well. It would certainly explain what I saw in the book before my arrival here today.” I frowned, confused.

“Book?” I echoed.

“Yes, the book with all of Hogwarts’ students - past, present, and future,” he replied, not skipping a beat, “We have a magic quill that writes down each magical child’s name at birth, at least those that would be going to Hogwarts. I was checking it in order to help Professor McGonagall begin writing letters for the upcoming first years, and saw your name on the list: Miss Rosaline Clara McIntosh, age 14.” I felt my eyebrows raise up into my hairline, and I was sure that my eyes were bulging out of my skull.

“Me?” He nodded. “I’m in the book? Then that would mean I-I’m...that I’m-”

“A witch,” he finished, smiling at me. All of the air in my lungs suddenly disappeared. _I’m a witch...But how? Why?_

“But sir,” I argued, “that doesn’t make any sense! How could I possibly be a witch?”

“Well, have you ever done something…out of the ordinary? Something you couldn’t quite explain?” A memory flashed in my mind of a younger me and my twin sister, where we had been trying to take some before-dinner cookies Rugrats-style, and I slipped and began falling, only to land softly on the ground with the cookie jar in my hands. Then another memory, this one more recent, of glaring at Violet’s at-the-time boyfriend while he flirted with another girl in biology, only for the frog they were dissecting to suddenly explode in their faces.

_How else_ can _you explain that?_ I looked back up at the man before me, finally convinced.

* * *

Mr. Weasley and Professor Dumbledore continued speaking as the elder wizard began making his way out the door. Our conversation had lasted nearly another hour after my revelation, discussing the plan for me for the upcoming school year:

I will be introduced at the start-of-term feast as a transfer from the American wizarding school right before the first years enter the Great Hall, and will be sorted into my own house. Until then, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley have offered for me to stay with them, sharing a room with Ginny while we wait for our Hogwarts letters. After that, we will head to Diagon Alley to check out this vault that apparently was set up for me.

Mrs. Weasley had come in some time ago, ushering the boys back upstairs before handing me a blue beanie - the beanie I had apparently dropped during my fall into their yard. I fiddled with it in my hand, not putting it on since it was now too hot to do so; I hadn’t realised in my arrival or the time after that it was now July, and not the chilly, wet February we had been having in Georgia. I had already had to roll up the legs of my pants up just under my knees and remove my sweatshirt, tying it around my waist.

_Well, at least I’ll actually be able to see snow when it does get cold around here…_

“Well, I had best be off,” Dumbledore stated as he walked out the threshold, turning back to smile at myself and the Weasleys, “It was lovely meeting you, Miss McIntosh.”

“You too, sir,” I replied, waving slightly.

“Your letters should be arriving within the week, and remember: we await your owl no later than the end of July.” With that, he turned about on his heel, and with a resounding _crack!_ , he was gone.


	4. The-Boy-Who-Lived

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosie's spent some time at the Burrow now, but what of Harry Potter? Where's he been this whole time?

The rest of the day went, I suspect, quite normally. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had explained to their kids that I was a foreign exchange student - not entirely wrong - and that I would be staying with them for the remainder of my time in school. They then helped set up another bed in Ginny’s room for me, as well as helped move some of my clothes out of the trunk and into a wardrobe on my side of the room. Ginny and I talked a bit while I sorted out what could stay at the Burrow and what could come to Hogwarts with me - _I can’t believe I’m actually going to Hogwarts! If this is a dream, I hope I never wake up!!_

She and I both gushed about how excited we were to be going, and what we both hoped for when the year started. She said that she hoped she’d be in Gryffindor, or else Fred and George would never let her live it down. _Well, at least I know how far back in the series I am; Ginny started her first year during the incident with the Chamber, which was Harry’s second year. That would make it July of 1992 now..._

“...and the whole family’s Gryffindor, so me being sorted anywhere else would just be a big disappointment anyway. But what about you?” I looked up from arranging my shoes to see Ginny looking at me expectantly.

“What house do I wanna be sorted in?” I asked; she nodded, ”To be honest, I hadn’t really thought about it that much.”

“Aren’t you at least a little curious?” she whined, and I shrugged.

“I’ll wait until the Sorting,” I replied, closing the cabinet and standing back up to full height, “but if I have an idea of which house I’ll be in before then, I’ll let you know, okay?” She nodded again, and we continued talking as we headed downstairs for dinner. _I had no idea she could talk so much!_ I thought to myself, smiling as the younger red-head rambled on about every little thing she could possibly think of. We sat down at the table with everyone else, quieting down as we listened to the conversation already on-going.

“...and he said that an official notice had been sent to Harry Potter for use of underage magic - and in front muggles, no less!”

“But Dad!” Ron yelled, pieces of chewed-up roast flying from his mouth, “Harry wouldn’t do something like that!”

“Close your mouth when you’re eating, Ronald!” Mrs. Weasley said, putting a plate of roast, mashed potatoes, and peas in front of myself and Ginny, “I had been beginning to wonder why he hadn’t written you all summer. I do hope he’s alright, he’s such a sweet boy.”

“Can’t we go get him, Mum? He must be _miserable_ with those muggles!” Ron had, thankfully, swallowed his bite of food before speaking again, which I was glad for, but Mrs. Weasley still threw a glare to her son.

“We can’t be entirely certain of the situation just yet, Ron!” she shouted, then sighed, exhausted “Look, if he hasn’t written back by Friday, your dad and I will got and get him. Sound good? Good. Now eat.”

* * *

It was just after midnight when I woke, hearing some movement on the landing. I knew it wasn’t Mr. Weasley - he had been called into work around seven-thirty - so it had to be one of the other Weasleys. I thought hard about why they might be up so late, then I remembered the conversation at dinner. _Looks like the boys are about to go rescue Harry. No way am I missing this!_

I got up quietly, moving somewhat slowly as to avoid waking the eleven-year-old still sleeping on the other side of the room, and headed to the wardrobe. I shuffled quickly out of my pajamas, haphazardly throwing on a pair of high-waisted shorts and a crop top before grabbing my socks and boots. I dressed quickly, trying my best to keep from making any more noise than could be helped. I pulled a beanie on my head and over the tops of my braids roughly before tip-toeing over to Ginny’s desk and grabbing some parchment. Looking carefully at the quill and ink pot and wondering how I was going to do this, I dipped the quill in the ink several times before writing Mrs. Weasley a - rather splotchy - message:

_Dear Mrs. Weasley,_  
_Fred, George, and Ron are leaving to go get Harry in Surrey. I’m going with them to keep them out of trouble. It’s about half-past midnight now. We should be back right in time for breakfast._  
_I promise to bring your boys back safe and sound._  
_-Rosie_

I almost couldn’t read it through the ink splatters, but it was the most legible I was going to get without missing Ron and the twins leaving. I placed the quill back in the pot and left the note open on the desk before slowly sneaking out onto the landing. I walked carefully down the stairs, trying to avoid stepping on any weak spots to keep from being heard. Finally making to the bottom floor, I crouched down when I spotted three tall figures in the kitchen, arguing.

 _Best to sneak into the car now,_ I thought as I made my way to the front door, _that way they can’t try and make me stay here._ My mind made up, I had to practically crawl to keep from being seen on my way to the door. By the time I had reached the handle, though, it was clear that I wasn’t nearly as stealthy as I had thought, as I felt on set of hands cover my mouth while another physically lifted my up off the floor; I was so startled that it took serious effort to keep from screaming.

“Well, lookie what we’ve caught, Freddie!”

“Miss Rosie-posie, what are you sneakin’ ‘round for?”

 _Damn it._ I struggled against their hold, pulling hard on Fred’s hands over my mouth until it was free.

“I could ask you three the same thing! Now put me down!” Thankfully, they complied, turning me to face them once my feet were back on the ground. Fred and George were smiling wide at me, while Ron stood a bit back, watching the stairs nervously.

“So, what’re you doing up at this time of night?” George asked, and I narrowed my eyes.

“Don’t pull that with me, Weasley,” I whispered harshly, pointing a finger at the both of them, “You’re sneaking out to go get Harry from his house and bring him here!” They held up their hands in surrender, pulling innocent faces at me - _Yeah, not buying it…_

“Us?”

“Sneak out?”

“Never!” they finished together, and Ron shushed them, drawing their attention. Rolling my eyes, I shoved their shoulders to face me again.

“Look, either you can all shut up and take me with you, or I can tell your mother _exactly_ what you’re doing.” That got them; their faces paled significantly, and they nodded quickly. I smirked.

“Then let’s get going.”

* * *

It was a long drive down to Surrey; I hadn’t known just how far we were from London before, but after flying in the car for almost three hours, it made me glad we’d be taking the Floo network to Diagon Alley once our letters arrived. It seemed like forever before we finally arrived in Little Whinging, but we could finally see the beginnings of Privet Drive peeking through below the clouds.

“Oi, which house is it again, Ron?” Fred asked, pulling a lever in the car and starting to descend from the cloud cover.

“Number 4, I think,” he replied, only to be swiftly cut off by George yelling “You think?! How can you not know which house it is, Ron?” I leaned out the back window carefully, scanning the all the windows I could see. _This would be after the Dobby incident, so it should have… Ah ha!_

“Is that it, Ron?” I asked, pointing to the one house on the street with bars on one of the windows. He leaned out next to me, and sure enough, a golden number 4 was plastered on the front of the house.

“Yeah, that’s it… why do they have bars on the window, though?” I shrugged.

“Maybe it had something to do with Harry using magic? Isn’t that what your dad said?” He nodded, and told Fred and George to pull around beside the window. Once close enough, I could see a scrawny, black-haired boy tossing and turning in his small bed by the wall. _Harry Potter._ Ron moved past me to rattle the bars a little.

“Harry?” he called, as quietly as he could while still being heard, “Harry!” Finally, after a moment, the boy through the bars opened his eyes and stared, not entirely seeing, at Ron leaning out the backseat window of a flying Ford Anglia car. He pushed his glasses on his face and opened the window as best he could.

“Ron!” he whispered, as if he couldn’t believe it - which he probably couldn’t, “Ron, how did you- What the-?” He then froze for a moment, his eyes travelling over first the car, then the twins, and finally landing on me. “How did you get here? And who is she?”

“Alright there, Harry?” George asked, ignoring the second part of his question.

“What’s been going on?” Ron interjected, his voice raising slightly, “Why haven’t you been answering my letters? I’ve asked you to stay about twelve times, and then Dad came home and said you’d got an official warning for using magic in front of Muggles-”

“It wasn’t me,” Harry claimed, “and how did he know?” I groaned.

“As good as it must be catching up, can we please save the Q and A for _after_ we’ve broken Potter out?” I interrupted, making eye contact with the three that I’d travelled with, “At this rate, either your mom or the muggles will be up by the time we leave, and neither of those options bodes well for us.” The twins nodded, then handed Harry a rope they’d grabbed from the floorboards.

“She’s right,” Fred admitted, tossing one end of the rope to Harry, “Tie that ‘round the bars. George’s tied the other end already.” Harry moved fast, tying what he hoped was a sturdy knot, before Ron told him to stand back. The car suddenly revved up, and drove up into the air. There was a jolt as the bars held us back, but after a few more tries, the bars were ripped off the window and Ron and I quickly pulled them into the trunk. Pulling back beside the window, I opened the door to Harry.

“Get in,” Ron said.

“But all my Hogwarts stuff-”

“Where is it?” I asked, “Fred and George can get it for you.” Harry told them, and they both crawled through the window into Harry’s bedroom quickly, unlocking the door and heading down the stairs. I crawled through the window as well, and moved to help Harry grab the rest of his things.

“Here, let’s get your owl over to the car,” I said, pointing to Hedwig, “The twins can let her out once we’re above the clouds - to make sure we don’t get seen.” Harry nodded, and we both grabbed the cage and handed it over to Ron. Together, we got Harry’s things out to the car in record time, then went down to help Fred and George carry his trunk and broom. We had just made it into the room when Vernon Dursley coughed in the other room.

“Hurry, let’s get everything into the car and get moving!” I whispered, “Harry, you get in and help Ron pull - the three of us will push!” Moving around us, Harry climbed into the car, then he and Ron turned to grab the handle of Harry’s trunk. We had it in within a few minutes, just in time to hear Vernon cough again. I passed Harry’s broom to the boys in the back, then ushered Fred and George into the car.

“Let’s get moving, before someone wakes up.” Ron said, but I held back a moment, grabbing a pen and some paper from the nightstand, “What’re you doing?”

“Just letting them know that Harry’s going to a friend’s house, and _not_ been arrested by the Ministry.” I scribbled out a quick note to the Dursleys, then folded it carefully on the window sill before scrambling up and reaching out for George’s extended hand.

Then my foot slipped. I shrieked, nearly falling before George and Fred grabbed my wrists tightly. But the damage had already been done.

“WHAT WAS THAT?!” A man screamed farther in the house, and we began to panic.

“Pull me up!” I growled, no longer trying to keep quiet. They yanked me into the car, seating me between them and shutting the door just as Mr. Dursley appeared purple-faced in Harry’s doorway.

“PETUNIA!” he cried, running to the window, “PETUNIA HE’S GETTING AWAY!”

“Put your foot down, Fred!” Ron yelled, just as I shouted “Floor it!” The car suddenly shot upwards, and we drove away from Privet Drive. Harry and Ron looked back to see the Dursleys leaning out the window, staring at us.

“See you next summer!” Harry cried, laughing happily as we lifted above the clouds and out of sight. At this, George reached over the seat towards Hedwig’s cage and picking the lock. As soon as the cage door opened, she flew out the window, soaring in the sky beside us.

“Nice going, by the way, getting caught,” Fred chuckled, catching my attention, “I guess that note won’t be needed anymore!” I elbowed him gently, then relaxed in the seat, smiling.

“You still haven’t told me who you were,” Harry reminded me, and I turned back to face him. His black hair was all over the place, and green eyes shone back at me through round, thin glasses. Underneath his bangs, I could see the corner of a lightning-shaped scar. I grinned to him, holding out my hand.

“I’m Rosie.” He took my hand, smiling back at me as he shook it.

“Nice to meet you, Rosie. I’m Harry Potter.”


	5. Of Wand-Lore and Broomsticks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now they've got Harry with them. Their Hogwarts letters can't be far behind - time to get some school supplies!

The sun was just beginning to lift on the horizon when the feeling of the car landing woke me up. After we had made it a safe distance from the Dursley’s house, I had curled up between the twins in order to get some more sleep before reaching the Burrow. I sat up with a yawn, watching the sky change colors as the sun raised slowly in the background of the Weasley’s house, shedding a pink-ish light over ever-

_Wham!_ I jolted up out of my seat and turned to see George laughing at me. Behind him, Fred and Ron were helping Harry take his things out of the trunk.

“Ah, so you’re awake?” George joked, opening the recently-slammed door to let me out, “Sleep well?” I sneered at him, bumping his shoulder as I moved past him and out into the yard. He chortled. “Ah, not a morning person then, are you?”

“Oh, piss off...” I muttered before looking around at the scene; I hadn’t gotten much of a look at it when I arrived yesterday, but now I had a chance to see it clearly. There were a number of rusted cauldrons and odd, rubber boots laying around all over the yard. Fat, brown chickens ran in circles around the front, and what I could see of the garden from here was nearly wild, and very, very green.

But not nearly as green as Ron began turning as Mrs. Weasley started storming out the front door and towards us.

“Ah,” said Fred.

“Oh dear,” said George. Mrs. Weasley moved to stand in front of us, hands on her hips and a firm frown set on her face. There was a look in her eyes, one that, when it looked at each of us in turn, we each looked guilty and turned our eyes away - aside from the twins, who, despite their increasingly guilty expressions, faced her dead on.

“So,” she said, and I could hear Ron gulp at her steady tone and calm fury. _I hope this is the only time I get on her bad side,_ I thought to myself, _She’s absolutely_ terrifying _._

“Morning, Mum,” George spoke cheerily, as if his warm, happy tone might convince her not to be angry with us. It didn’t work.

“Have you any idea how worried I’ve been?” she responded, her voice a deadly whisper that, had she not already had our attention, we might have missed her words completely. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Fred preparing to say something, and without thinking, jumped ahead of him, catching Mrs. Weasley’s attention.

“Mrs. Weasley, sorry, we’re a bit later than I had anticipated,” I spoke quickly, throwing the ginger-haired woman off guard, “You did see my note, right? I’m sorry if you couldn’t read it - I’ve never used a quill before you see, and I didn’t have time to fix it before running down to follow the boys. I thought about just trying to keep them here, but I figured they might not listen to me, and from what I’d heard, Harry here needed to get out of there as soon as possible!” Mrs. Weasley continued to look shocked, and I thought for a moment that I should stop, but found that I just couldn’t shut up. _Typical…_

“I know you said that you and your husband would go and get Harry if he hadn’t written Ron back by Friday, but they were just so _worried_ , and I wanted to help. And the poor boy had bars on his window, an-”

“Rosie, dear, calm down!” Mrs. Weasley finally cut me off, placing a hand on either of my shoulders, “I’m not cross with you, dear.”

“Y-You’re not?” I stuttered, deflating slightly from my momentary hysterical state. She shook her head.

“Not at all, sweetheart,” she smiled at me, then turned back to smile at Harry as well, “Nor with you, Harry, dear. But I am cross with you three.” The three Weasley boys, though they each towered over her, shrank visibly under her harsh gaze. “You could have _died_ , you could have been _seen_ , you could have lost your father his _job_ -” She continued on like this for a while, up until her voice began to go hoarse, then turned back to myself and Harry.

“I am very pleased to see you, Harry,” she said, leading us into the house, “Come in and have some breakfast.” We walked inside the door, and the twins held me back as Harry and Ron sat down at the table.

“How’d you do it? She would’ve normally yelled ‘til she was blue in the face, but she didn’t. So how’d you do it?” Fred asked, and I shrugged.

“No idea, but I’m starving” I moved past them, helping Mrs. Weasley put the food on everyone’s plates before sitting down and eating breakfast myself.

* * *

It’d been about a week since bringing Harry here, and the Burrow was already beginning to feel like home. It was certainly louder here than back home, but that was a given; a large house with 9 people in it, plus a ghoul in the attic and Fred and George’s typical antics would obviously be louder than a three-bedroom, 4-person household just outside of Atlanta. Needless to say, I much prefered it here.

I spent much of my time at the Burrow either helping Mrs. Weasley around the house, talking with Ginny, and learning to play Quidditch with the boys (excluding Percy, that is). I was thankful that I had read Rowling’s “Quidditch Through the Ages” book recently, as when asked if my old school played Quidditch or Quodpot, I actually knew what that was. I told them that I had never played either, of course, and asked them to teach me to play Quidditch.

I hadn’t expected flying to be so... _liberating_. I had been so nervous at first - obviously, I had never flown anything on my own before - and Fred and George had had to help me even get onto the broom the first few times, and then stuck close by to make sure I didn’t fall off. But once I was in the air, I was _soaring_! It took a while just being on the broom for them to convince me to stop long enough to actually learn how to play the game.

“You’re pretty good, you know,” Harry had said to me as we entered the house for dinner later that evening, “You should think about trying out for your house team.” I smiled at the idea, thinking how cool it would be to play on an actual team. _Maybe I will..._

Our Hogwarts letters came in at breakfast a few days after that; I remember having to pick both the letter and a number of feathers out of my eggs, as Errol had landed beak-first onto my plate. I froze; there were seven letters - seven thick-papered letters, each sealed with a red wax seal pressed with the Hogwarts school crest. I knew it would be coming for me, Dumbledore had told me so himself, but now it was actually here. The front was fairly simple, written in green ink:

**Miss R. McIntosh**  
**Seat Nearest the Window**  
**The Burrow**  
**Ottery St. Catchpole** **Devon**

Opening the letter - the letter I had waited my entire life for - was one of the hardest things I had ever done. It felt like the moment I actually opened it, I would wake up - like this had all been a dream, and I couldn’t bear the thought that none of this was real.

**Dear Miss McIntosh,**   
**We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as a third-year student to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on foreign-exchange. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.**   
**Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.**   
**Sincerely,**   
**Minerva McGonagall**

“Third year, eh?” I jumped, not noticing that the twins had been reading over my shoulder, “We didn’t know that we were older than you.” _Yeah, and if you count birth years, you two are older by a LOT…_

“Actually,” I started, blushing, “I’ve been…held back a year.” Everyone stared at me at that - save Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who knew why - and the twins burst out laughing.

“My old school was a year behind Hogwarts, curriculum-wise!” I near-shouted at them, “So Professor Dumbledore thought it best that I wait another year before taking the OWLs.” Truthfully, it was so I could catch up on the material in my own time - and it wouldn’t make sense for a 14-year-old to be starting in a first-year class, that would raise some questions that I wouldn’t know how to answer.

Thankfully, they dropped the topic, and we continued eating without interruption. Until a little later, when a letter arrived for Ron from Hermione asking if we could all meet up at Diagon Alley to do our shopping together.

Which is happening today - Wednesday, the day we all finally get to get our new school supplies. I borrowed an old cloak from Mrs. Weasley’s closet, which I didn’t refuse but I didn’t understand why I was wearing it; it seemed I was the only one _actually dressed_ for summer - a light-blue sleeveless crop-top, high-waist shorts, and some flats - while everyone else was in sweaters and either skirts or long pants.

After we were dressed, Mrs. Weasley stuffed us full of bacon sandwiches before gathering all of us around the fireplace. Mrs. Weasley grabbed a flower pot off the mantle and looked inside.

“We’re running low, Arthur,” she sighed, “We’ll have to buy some more today… Ah well, guests first!” She then turned to me and Harry, offering the pot to the both of us. Harry looked at the pot, then to me, as if asking me to go first. I smiled softly to him, and turned back to Mrs. Weasley.

“Are you sure it’ll work right for me, Mrs. Weasley?” I asked, “I mean, my accent won’t affect where I end up, will it?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t think so,” she replied, not looking entirely convinced herself, “but just to be on the safe side, Percy, dear, why don’t you go with her?” The elder of the Weasley children nodded, though looked particularly unenthused, and walked up to the fireplace beside me. I reached to grab some of the sparkling powder but Percy beat me to it, tossing it into the fire. The flames changed to a bright, neon green and he stepped into them, gesturing me to follow. I walked in carefully - the flames flickered around me, but did not catch myself or my clothes - and turned to face the others, grabbing onto Percy’s elbow as I did so.

“Diagon Alley!” I heard him shout, but then all sound was drowned out by the air rushing past my ears as we fell. I tightened my grip, squeezing my eyes shut as I tried my hardest not to lose my lunch all over the place. I felt Percy move beside me, and in my haste to steady myself, I knocked us both over, landing both of us face down on the floor of the Leaky Cauldron.

“Sorry…” I muttered as we stood back up, brushing the soot off our robes. He humphed, but didn’t say anything, instead choosing to stand off to the side, staring away from me.

_Oookay then…_ I thought to myself, _I get the feeling that he doesn’t like me very much…_ I decided to ignore it for now, and turned to see my reflection in a nearby mirror. Thankfully, Mrs. Weasley’s cloak managed to keep my clothes safe from any ashes, however my hair and shoes were not nearly so fortunate. I began shaking the ashes out of my pink curls, adjusting the bow I had pinned in the back before leaning down to wipe the tops of my shoes clean.

“Rosie!” I turned to see Fred walking out of the fire, “I do hope Percy hasn’t bored you too much while you were gone!” I rolled my eyes.

“Oh, of course!” I drawled sarcastically, batting my eyelashes as George followed Fred from the fireplace, “What _ever_ would I do without you here to save me from the dull and mundane?”

“Dull and mundane?” George interjected, grinning madly at his brothers, “We’ll have to fix that, won’t we, Freddie?”

“Absolutely, George!” Next I knew, I was sandwiched between them, the three of us laughing together as we waited on the rest of the Weasleys and Harry to arrive. Ron came through next, looking around the bar, frantic.

“Where’s Harry gone?” he asked us.

“He’s hasn’t gotten here yet,” I replied, confused. _Why does this seem familiar?_

“He went just after George did! Where could he have ended up?” My heart stuttered slightly as I realized what had happened. _Knockturn Alley! How could I have forgotten?!_ I exchanged a look with the twins, becoming increasingly worried.

“Maybe he just missed the grate-”

“Who’s missed the grate?” Mr. Weasley’s voice cut George off, as he, Mrs. Weasley, and Ginny all steadily walked from the fireplace, the flames finally returning to their usual orange color.

“Harry, Dad,” Ron wailed, “He’s not here!”

“What?!” Mrs. Weasley thundered, “Where could he have gone? He could’ve gotten himself hurt, or-”

“Now, Molly, settle down,” Mr. Weasley soothed, wrapping an arm around his wife’s shoulders, “I’m sure he’ll be fine; he can’t have gone too far. Let’s just check around the alley and see if he’s landed in another shop.” With that, the eight of us headed out behind the pub, and Mr. Weasley pulled out his wand and tapped the brick three up and two across from the trash can. The brick slid back, creating a small hole before the other bricks began shuffling around, moving and shifting until they formed a magnificent archway. Just beyond that was a narrow, cobblestone street, with towering, slanted buildings of all different colors and styles on either side.

I blinked back the tears I felt forming as I gazed at the sight, all thoughts of finding Harry thrown from my mind. My feet froze where they stood, and I felt my heart ache as I thought _This is_ real… _This is real, and I’m actually_ here! I’m not dreaming! Mrs. Weasley turned back to me, calling my name.

“...I love magic…” I gasped, feeling a smile crack onto my no doubt awe-struck face. She smiled at me, and took gentle hold of my elbow. I shook myself out of it, smiling again at Mrs. Weasley before we continued on. The alley could wait - we needed to find Harry.

* * *

Thankfully, it didn’t take long to find Harry. By the time we made it up the alley to Gringotts bank, Hagrid had already arrived, with the black-haired wizard in tow. Mrs. Weasley thanked him profusely before ushering all of us into the bank. Mr. Weasley stayed behind with the others to chat up Hermione’s parents, while myself, Harry, and Mrs. Weasley climbed in the cart and headed into the vaults.

We decided to check my vault last, so I stayed in the cart at the first two stops, fiddling with my key as Mrs. Weasley cleaned out their family’s vault and Harry hastily shoved a few handfuls of gold from his into his bag. We began making our way to vault 256, I sat staring into space, wondering how it was possible for me to have a vault in the first place; who sent me here, and why did they go through so much trouble to make it possible for me to stay?

“Vault 256,” the goblin driving us announced, bringing me back to the present as I stepped out of the cart and next to the door. I handed him the key, and waited as he unlocked the door, and pushed it open.

“Whoa…” I don’t know what I had been expecting to see inside, but I’m almost certain it wasn’t piles upon piles of gold, silver, and bronze coins. It wasn’t a relatively _big_ vault, maybe about half the size of Harry’s, but it was full to bursting. I stumbled inside, trying to see just how much was really in there, before pulling a velvet pouch out from under my cloak and shoving a few handfuls of each kind of coin inside. I accepted the key back from the goblin before climbing back in next to Mrs. Weasley and making our way back up to the surface.

Once back out on the alley, the twins immediately grabbed onto both of my arms and practically carried me over to meet their friend Lee Jordan, just barely hearing their mother tell all of us to meet back at the book shop in an hour. Lee was certainly interesting - just as wild as Fred and George were, but somehow seemingly less mischievous.

We didn’t talk for too long, however, since he had already finished his shopping, and the three of us continued on to get my shopping done. They helped me get my cauldron, scales, and phials, as well as some quills and ink, parchment, a personal journal, and my ingredients for classes. We even stopped into Sugarplum’s Sweets Shop, grabbing a few boxes of Bertie Bott’s and Fizzing Whizbees. They seemed to get increasingly confused, however, as we began making our way up to Madam Malkin’s.

“Why do you need to get all new materials, anyways?” Fred asked, taking my cauldron - which held all of my other purchases inside - and carrying it for me.

“Yeah, don’t you still have yours from your old school?” I froze at that, thinking rapidly as to how I should answer that.

“Um, well,” I stammered, twirling my hair around my pinkie finger, “I needed new ones anyway, you see. And I broke my old wand, too, so I’ll have to get a new one of those today, as well.” They stared at me for a moment, and I wondered for a moment if they saw through my lie, before shrugging and tossing their arms over my shoulders again.

“Alright.”

“Makes sense.” I held in a sigh of relief, and we continued down to the robe shop, where they handed me back my cauldron and left to head into Gambol and Japes, leaving me to get fitted for my new uniform in peace. A short witch dressed in pale purple robes - Madam Malkin - quickly ushered me over to one of the stools in the back, measuring and hemming a set of plain Hogwarts robes for me.

Once finished, she wrapped three sets of the robe-uniform, a winter cloak, and a pair of dragonhide gloves for me, which I paid for before carefully shoving them into my nearly-full cauldron. I made my way back out into the street, and just about ran over Harry as I did so.

“Sorry, Harry!” I pulled him back up to his feet, dusting off his shoulders before smiling at the other two, “Hi Ron, Hermione!”

“How’s the shopping going for you, Rosie?” Hermione asked; our previous introduction at Gringotts had been brief, but I had gotten the sense that I would like her, and we had instantly hit it off.

“Honestly, it was a bit better when Fred and George were tossing my cauldron back and forth between them - at least then, I wasn’t the one carrying it!” I laughed at my little joke, shifting said cauldron in my grip before continuing, “And I’ve still got things to get before heading back to the book shop. But what about you guys?”

“Everything except the books,” Ron said, “But they had a full set of Chudley Cannon robes over at Quality Quidditch Supplies!”

“Yeah, speaking of Quidditch, you thinking about trying out for your house team?” I shrugged, not entirely certain.

“I dunno, I mean, I’d need a broom, wouldn’t I?” Without another word, both boys grabbed onto my arms and began leading me down to the shop, Hermione following behind us. We pushed ourselves inside, and I soon found my nose pressed up against a wall covered in different broom models for sale - including the illustrious new Nimbus 2001.

“What’dya think?” Harry asked, and I backed up a bit to look at them without going cross-eyed. The Nimbus models looked nice, but I could tell they wouldn’t come very cheap, and I was sure that there were other models just as nice that wouldn’t clean out the pouch I had filled earlier. Finally, I felt my eyes settle on an old Cleansweep Seven. It was clearly pre-owned, but seemed to be in relatively good condition. I reached a hand out and slid it down the handle, taking hold of it carefully before picking it up and turning back to the others, who were smiling at me.

“This one,” I said, and we walked over to the counter to purchase it, along with a servicing kit. We walked back outside, my new broom wrapped in brown paper under my arm, and I turned back to them.

“It’s almost time to meet back up with your mom, Ron,” I said, “Why don’t you guys head on over there now? I’ve still got a few more things to get, so I’ll meet up with all of you in a bit, okay?”

“What else haven’t you got?” Hermione asked.

“I need to get a new wand, and I was thinking about stopping by the Magical Menagerie as well,” I responded.

“Why do you need a new wand?” Harry asked, and I sighed internally. _Great, another story I have to make up…_

“It’s...a long story,” I said finally, “I’ll tell you some other time, but I really need to hurry and get to Ollivander’s now, okay? See ya!” With that, I hurried back up the street to the wand shop, knowing that they would find my evading their questions suspicious. _Eh, I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it…_

I slowly pushed the door open to see a small, dingy-looking shop with a single wand on a faded, purple-velvet pillow in the front window. Inside the shop was mostly empty, save a scrawny chair in the corner, and shelves from the floor to the ceiling filled to the brim with wand boxes shoved haphazardly onto them. The light streaming in from the windows lit up the dust particles floating in the air, making them seem like tiny fireflies dancing inside the shop. From the back of the shop can an older wizard, his eyes wide and a kind smile on his face.

“Ah,” he whispered, though it echoed in the empty space, “You must be Miss McIntosh.” I nodded. “Yes, yes, Dumbledore told me you’d be coming. Now, let’s see if we can find a suitable wand for you...” A measuring tape begin measuring my right arm, my shoulders, my head - really anything it could measure - as Mr. Ollivander muttered to himself, searching along the shelves before finally grabbing a brown box and bringing over to me. He waved his wand, dropping the tape to the floor before opening the box.

“Here,” he pulled a ash-colored wand from the box, “Dogwood and dragon heartstring, ten-and-three-quarter inches, rather springy…” He turned the wand to pass it to me, but it barely touched my fingers before he snatched it back, mumbling as he put it back and continued searching. He came back a few moments later with a black box, with a honey-brown wand inside.

“Maple, phoenix feather, eleven inches, sturdy.” Again, the wand was whisked away before I could fully grasp it. This went on for a few more tries, before he finally came over with a green, velvet-lined box. Inside was an almost white wand, with a firm, bark-like handle, and carved vines with little flowers sprouting towards the tip from it.

“Here we go, rowan wood, unicorn hair, twelve-and-a-quarter inches, quite flexible…” He passed me the wand, and the moment I felt my fingers touch it, I knew. I held it in my right hand, feeling the warmth radiating from it before flicking it and shooting a shower of silver and pink sparks out of the tip.

“Yes, that’s the one, interesting...” Mr. Ollivander spoke, a wide grin on his face, “I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Miss McIntosh, and in all my years, of all the rowan-wood wands I’ve sold, not a single one has gone on to do dark things in this world. I expect I’ll be seeing good work from you, in the future…”


	6. One Wild Ride!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost finished with shopping, and then it'll be time to go to Hogwarts! (Hope no one misses the train!)

I was somewhat reeling from what Mr. Ollivander had said to me as I walked into the Magical Menagerie. It was certainly amazing; not only was I able to do magic with my new wand, but apparently the wood my wand was made from was very particular about the moral alignment of witches and wizards - a wand wood that only chose those who were unlikely to turn to dark magic. _How cool is this?!_

The thought stuck with me as I began looking around at all the different animals the shop had for sale. I had thought about getting an owl at first, and discussed the idea with the Weasleys a few times, but eventually decided I’d likely do better with a cat. _Besides,_ I thought to myself, remembering an incident involving my great-aunt’s parrot and an explosion of feathers, _it’s not like I’m any good with birds anyway…_

The inside of store was kind of dark, with various bad smells coming from the different cages lining the walls. The creatures inside each of the cages were screeching, cawing, and yowling loudly with each step I took further into the shop. Closer to the counter, I could see an animal pen with a few little kittens rolling around. Smiling, I moved over there to get a better look.

“Ah!” I jumped, turning around to see the salesman standing behind me, “Interested in a cat, I see?” I nodded. “Well, I have just the pet for you!” Taking hold of my shoulder, he quickly steered me towards the back of the shop. Stopping in front of a very tall shelf, he tilted my chin up in order for me to see the animal properly; relaxing on the very top shelf was a very large orange cat.

“This is Crookshanks!” I gasped slightly as I took in the sight of the half-kneazle cat. Crookshanks stared down at me from his shelf, yellow eyes glinting and mouth turned into a frown from his squashed face. “He’s been here for a while, but I think I might be right in saying he’ll like you!” The tiger-looking cat didn’t even glimpse at the salesman, instead continuing to gaze at me. After a moment he turned his chin up, stood, and walked away, not giving me a second glance. _I suppose it’s for the best… Still, rejected by a_ cat _, ouch…_

“I think I might be a bit better with a different cat, thank you,” I said, facing the man - who was still somewhat frozen after the cat gave us both the cold shoulder. He nodded stiffly, and I moved past him, kneeling down to smile at the kittens in the pen. One of them looked straight at me, tilting his head when I smiled at him. He had a fluffy, tortoiseshell coat and big, blue eyes. On the top of his head, his ears appeared to be folded down. _He’s so cute!!!_

“Hey, little guy…” I whispered, offering my fingers for him to sniff. He sniffed for a second, before wiggling his butt - preparing to pounce - and leaping onto my shoulder. I straightened up, giggling as the kitten crawled under my hair, curling up behind my neck and purring madly.

“Aww, I think he likes me!” I laughed, standing back up. The salesman, who appeared to have shaken himself out of his previous shock, walked back behind the counter.

“So,” he drawled, seeming suddenly exhausted, “will that be all?”

* * *

About ten minutes later, I was walking back down the alley to Flourish and Blott’s. In my left hand, I carried my new cauldron, filled to the brim with as many of my other purchases as I could fit, and a basket I received from the Menagerie, with the remainder of my purchases as well as the items I would need for my new pet; in my right hand, I held tightly onto my new broom. My new kitten - whom I affectionately named Frodo - was still on my shoulders, napping soundly.

“Come along, little hobbit!” I cheered to him, hearing a mewl in response, “Let’s go get my books!” With a new skip in my step, I made my way from the street to inside the store itself…

...and immediately knocked into someone and fell backwards onto the ground; luckily, I managed not to hurt Frodo in the process.

“Watch where you’re going!” Someone snarled - the person I apparently rammed into - and stormed off. I shook off my shock and looked up just in time to see a tall, pale man brush past me, with a blonde boy on his heels. Frodo growled at them from his place on my shoulder.

“ _You_ aren’t the one who ended up in the dirt, ass-munch,” I muttered bitterly under my breath before pulling myself back on my feet. Slightly more irritated than I was before, I tried to enter the store again, just barely managing not to fall over when I ran into someone else.

“Whoops, sorry ‘bout tha’,” a gruff voice said as a - very large - hand helped me stand straight. I lifted my head to tell them thanks but instead of a face, my eyes met the man’s stomach. I continued to tilt my head upwards until my eyes found his face - up near the ceiling, surrounded by a massive black beard. I hadn’t gotten a good enough look at him before when he brought Harry back from Knockturn Alley, but he looked exactly like Robbie Coltrane had in the films - just much taller than I had even imagined.

“Thanks, Hagrid,” I replied, smiling at him before turning and looking back at the door, “Who was the guy that just ran out of here?”

“Lucius Malfoy,” Mr. Weasley answered, holding a handkerchief to his lip, which appeared to be bleeding, “He didn’t cause you any trouble, did he?” I shook my head.

“I bumped into him trying to get in and fell back on the ground, but aside from his apparent _attitude_ , he didn’t cause any more trouble. Are you alright?” I responded, gesturing to his face. He nodded quickly, avoiding Mrs. Weasley’s harsh glare.

“I’m fine, let’s get going.” With that, Mr. Weasley took the kids and Hermione’s parents and followed Hagrid outside. Mrs. Weasley stood there, fuming for a moment before turning back to me.

“I’m so sorry, dear,” she said, brushing something - dirt or dust, I guess - off of my shoulders, “You go on and get your books, I’ll take your things; we’ll wait for you outside.” She then took my cauldron, basket, and broom all on one arm - Frodo crawling up onto her shoulder as well - and stepped out into the street, and I hurried to find my books before I could hear her berate her husband for fighting Mr. Malfoy from inside the store.

The shop, itself, was nothing like how I had envisioned, or even how it appeared in the movies; the insides of all the shops in the movies were very compact, like they might appear out in the Alley. It was that same, tiny size on the outside, sure, but the interior seemed to go on for miles, in all directions. No matter which way I turned my head, the shelves of books seemed never-ending. Immediately, I began rushing around, pushing around the witches in line for Gilderoy Lockhart’s autograph in order to find the shelves with Hogwarts textbooks.

I was enamoured - enchanted - by the sight of so many options of books to read. I was tempted to get even more, just for my own personal reading use. Already ahead of myself, I snatched up the first and second grade editions of _Standard Book of Spells_ , and a copy each of _A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration, Magical Drafts and Potions, A History of Magic, Magical Theory, One-Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ , and _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ before moving on to collect the required books for third years, including _Unfogging the Future_ for Divination and _Spellman’s Syllabary_ for Ancient Runes, the two electives I had signed up for while speaking with Professor Dumbledore.

Making my way to the counter to pay for my towering stack of books, I saw a few books on one of the shelves I passed that seemed interesting as well: _A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions, Jinxes for the Jinxed_ , and _Easy Spells to Fool Muggles_. Unable to really control my impulse, I pulled a copy of each off the shelf and balanced them precariously at the top of my stack before continuing up to the counter. The clerk’s eyes bugged out of his head at the sight of such a tiny, pink-haired student carrying so many books, but he, thankfully, didn’t ask any questions.

“Do you need any help carrying those out, miss?” he asked me after I had payed for them all. I glanced at the pile of books - there had to be just under thirty total - and shifted my weight into my hip. I felt a strap fall from my shoulder, and looked under the cloak to see my bag hanging on my back - the same bag that I had arrived with.

 _How could I have forgotten that was there?_ I thought to myself, _How much easier could I have made my day by just shoving my stuff in there?!_

“It’s alright,” I answered the man finally, pulling the bag into view and holding it open, “I’ll just put them in here, if you don’t mind.” He simply shrugged before helping me place the books inside the bag, each one disappearing from view once they were inside.

* * *

The last week-and-a-half of summer vacation went by much faster than I would have wanted it to. Sure, I was super excited about going to Hogwarts, but I was also really enjoying myself at the Burrow. After our day at Diagon Alley, I made some more time in my day to study up on some of the books for first and second years, trying to get myself up to speed so I wouldn’t be so far behind.

It was a bit easier to fit these study sessions into the routine I that had fallen into after my arrival, especially since Ginny seemed to be less and less willing to just sit around and chat with me. It worried me slightly - I had never seen her so quiet and reclusive before - but when I asked her, she insisted that she was just nervous about school, so I dropped the matter for now.

Really, the only problem I had with studying more and more was the twins. Fred and George insisted that I spend the rest of the summer enjoying myself, so whenever they caught me studying they tossed my book and dragged me outside to play Quidditch with them. I had taken to not studying in the same place twice, and never out in the open - it almost gave Mrs. Weasley a heart-attack when she found me hiding in one of the kitchen cabinets with _Intermediate Transfiguration_ pressed up against my nose.

But that had all passed. Tomorrow was September 1st, and in the morning we would be leaving London on the Hogwarts Express. After dinner, and once Fred and George’s Filibuster fireworks display had ended, I had rushed back upstairs to begin packing; I remembered that the morning of was a huge hassle for everyone, and I wanted to avoid making it any worse than it was already bound to be.

Pulling my trunk over to the wardrobe, I took everything out of it, trying to figure out what could stay here and what could come with me to school. _I better bring a bit of everything, I don’t know what the weather might be like - better safe than sorry_. With that, I quickly began making two separate piles of clothes - winter and summer - and once that was sorted, picked a handful of different outfits from each pile.

Once that was done, I put the remainder of the clothes back in the wardrobe before moving onto the shoes, which was much easier. Shoving a bunch of shoes - mostly black, to match the uniform - to the bottom of the trunk in an organized fashion, I then stacked my muggle clothes on top of those, and my uniforms and cloaks on top of those. Then, I grabbed my bag - now with my books, broom, cauldron, and other supplies, including Frodo’s things, placed carefully inside - and balanced it on the top, right next to my wand.

Two hours had passed by the time I’d finished, closing the trunk just as Ginny came in the room for bed. I moved the trunk over to the wall by the door, putting my outfit for tomorrow on top of it, before crawling into my own bed, curling up next to the already-snoozing Frodo and falling asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow.

The next morning was even more hectic than I had anticipated. Even though everyone was up by dawn, there was still a lot left to be done before we could leave for the train station - it was a really good thing I had packed ahead of time. I, thankfully, had also woken up before everyone else, which gave me plenty of time for a quick shower before getting ready for the day.

I had thought about wearing something that I normally wear, but figured it might be better to at least try to fit in a little in muggle London. A casual, shirt-top dress with a white skirt, high-heeled oxfords with white lace socks, and a simple, white bow in my pink hair - which would still cause staring, but hey, it’s better than nothing.

With Ginny still sleeping soundly on the other side of the room, I worked quietly to move my trunk out on the landing by myself. It was not something to be taken lightly; I had barely made it halfway out the bedroom door before Mr. and Mrs. Weasley left their room to begin waking everybody up.

“Rosie, you already packed?” Mr. Weasley asked, moving up to take one handle and help me carry it down the stairs.

“Yeah, last night, “ I replied, huffing slightly now that I had a chance to catch my breath, “Thought I’d get an early start on the day!” With two of us, we made quick work of getting my trunk all the way downstairs and into the trunk of the car, where Mr. Weasley showed me the enchantment he had used to make it - for lack of better phrasing - “bigger on the inside”.

“Kind of like the TARDIS…” I whispered, earning a confused look from Mr. Weasley, which I waved off before sliding my trunk inside. Once we were back inside, however, chaos had broken loose; Mrs. Weasley was yelling about missing quills and spare socks, the Weasley kids and Harry were all running around half-dressed with pieces of their breakfast falling out of their mouths, and you couldn’t go two steps on the stairs without knocking into someone else.

I sat quietly off to the side to eat some toast with Frodo napping in his basket beside me, unaware of the madness surrounding him. I watched as Mr. Weasley and Percy came down with Ginny’s trunk, and winced as they went outside, where Mr. Weasley tripped on one of the chickens and almost broke his neck. I quickly finished my food after that before heading back upstairs to help the rest of the boys with their stuff.

Harry and Ron, for the most part, had their things packed, aside from the odd shoe lying around and Scabbers hiding underneath Ron’s bed. Fred and George’s room, however, looked like a bomb went off. Both of their trunks lay open, clothing strewn haphazardly over the sides, and the twins were both trying to shove a few prank and joke items into their original boxes to fit at the bottom. I leaned against the door frame, watching them try and shove a Nose-Biting tea cup back into its box when it decided to chomp down on George’s thumb.

“Ouch!” he cried out, waving his hand around wildly. The cup released his thumb mid-wave, sending it flying towards me. It hit me in the face, making the twins guffaw when it bit down harshly on my nose.

“Get it off! Get it _off_!” I screamed at them over their laughter, trying to pull the stupid prank off my face with losing a chunk of my nose in the process. My foot landed on something - probably one of their fireworks - and I slipped, falling backwards onto the floor, the tea cup still firmly attached to my face. Fred, still snickering, finally stepped up and grabbed the cup, releasing my nose before shoving the toy unceremoniously into its box.

“Thanks,” I muttered, pushing myself up on one arm, my other hand rubbing at my poor nose, which was turning red around the teeth marks.

“Not very graceful in the mornings, are you?” George asked with a smirk, and I sneered back at him.

“I _was_ thinking about helping you boys pack, but if you’re going to act like this…” I got up to leave the room, but they quickly stopped laughing, grabbing me by the arms and steering me back to their trunks. I smirked to myself for a moment, before getting down to business.

* * *

Nearly an hour after we had woken up, we had all finally managed to pile into the car. Ron and Harry climbed into the back seat holding their pets, then Fred and George piled in behind them with myself squished in-between them, Frodo’s basket on my lap. Percy and Ginny sat next to their parents in the front seat. We set off to start driving, then had to stop just past the fence to let George get his fireworks, and again for Fred to grab his broom. We had made it down to the end of the driveway before Ginny jolted in her seat.

“My diary!” she yelled as Mr. Weasley slammed on the brakes, letting Ginny out to run back into the house. I looked over at Ron.

“What diary?” I asked, and he shrugged.

“She got it back at Diagon Alley, remember? She hasn’t put it down for days.” I sank back into my seat, trying to think of why that sounded so familiar. It wasn’t until she climbed back into the car with a small, black book in her hand that I remembered.

 _Tom Riddle’s diary!_ It took serious effort to keep from gasping aloud. _How could I have forgotten?! The Chamber of Secrets!_ I must have looked freaked out, because Fred leaned over right then.

“You alright?” he whispered in my ear, “You look pale.” I shook myself out of my thoughts, turning over to smile up at him.

“Just nerves, I guess…” He stared at me for a moment, then shrugged and turned to look out the window. I sighed internally. _I’ll have to figure out what to do about that diary when we get on the train..._

By the time we actually reached the station, it was fifteen minutes until the train left. The nine of us were rushing, pushing carts - excuse me, _trolleys_ \- with our trunks and and pets piled inside, trying to reach the platform before the Hogwarts Express left without us. A few people were staring at us - a large family of red-heads with a black-haired boy and pink-haired girl all running in the station - but I didn’t think too much of it; I was more worried about not twisting my ankle before reaching the platform. _Honestly, what possessed me to wear_ heels _today?!_

“Percy, Rosie, you first!” Mrs. Weasley called out, looking up at the clock overhead. 5 minutes until departure.

I followed behind Percy, running towards the wall between Platforms 9 and 10. I had been psyching myself up for this moment since we got out of the car - unlike the Floo powder, this was something I _knew_ I could do. Taking care not to be noticed by any other muggles, I ran at the wall, closing my eyes right before impact…

...and opened them to Platform 9¾. I almost slowed down, staring in awe at the sight, but quickly remembered to move out of the way to let the others through. Mr. Weasley came behind us, followed by Fred and George.

“Come one, now, quickly!” Mr. Weasley lead us swiftly to the train, helping us lift all our trunks and Percy’s owl into the luggage car before handing me Frodo’s basket and helping us into the train itself. Percy left us there, striding up towards the Prefects’ car, leaving myself and the twins to find an empty compartment. We could see Mrs. Weasley hug Ginny once more before letting her onto the train, and the four of us headed to the window to wave goodbye to her and her husband.

“Have a good year!” Mrs. Weasley called to us, waving back as the last whistle blew. The train began to move, and soon, the platform - along with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley - was out of sight. We collapsed in our seats, with Ginny wandering off to meet some other first years, leaving me alone with the twins sitting across from me.

“You know,” George started, catching my attention, “you never really told us anything about yourself.”

“Yeah, Rosie,” Fred added, “not trying to hide anything, are you?” I rolled my eyes; I had been expecting this question from them since my arrival, and had, thankfully, made it clear with their parents and Dumbledore what I should and shouldn’t tell them.

“Alright,” I conceded, shocking them both, “What do you wanna know?” Clearly, they hadn’t been expecting that answer. They stared at me, then each other, and then looked back at me without saying a word. Finally, Fred - cheeks turning pink - broke the silence.

“Um...what’s America like?” I laughed.

“Not too different from England, I guess. Maybe a bit warmer where I lived, though.”

“What’s your family like?” George asked, “Any siblings?” I shrugged.

“They’re all muggles,” I replied, looking down at my hands, “Mom, Dad, and Violet, my twin.”

“You have a twin?!” I jumped up, shrinking in on myself at their reaction.

“Y-yeah…?” I hesitated to answer, “But we don’t get along like you guys. She and I… we’re identical, but completely different people...C-can we talk about something else?” Thankfully, before either could say anything, the sliding door to the compartment opened and Lee walked in, taking the seat next to me that didn’t have my cat napping in it.

“Hey guys, Rosie,” he said cheerfully, “How was the rest of your summer?”

“Hey, Lee,” George smiled back at his friend, “It was great!”

“Yeah, we’ve been teaching Rosie here to play Quidditch!” Fred added. Lee grin widened.

“Really?” He turned to me, “You thinking about joining the house team?” I sighed.

“Guys, I told you, I’m not sure I’m going to try out,” I told them, standing as an old woman with a cart pulled up by the door, “Besides, I don’t even know what house I’ll be in.” Lee groaned.

“Well, whatever house you get sorted in, you should still try out.”

“Anything off the trolley, dears?” the woman asked us, and I moved over to look at the candies on the cart. There were a lot of the same ones I had seen at the shop in Diagon Alley, but hadn’t tried that day.

“Um, two chocolate frogs, a thing of Drooble’s, and a sugar quill, please,” I asked. She handed me the candy, taking the few coins I held out to her, and I sat down so the boys could purchase their sweets as well. Lee was loaded down with chocolate frogs and ice mice, while George had a box of Bertie Bott’s and Fred was chewing on a licorice wand.

“I’m still not sure about it,” I said, coming back to our previous argument as I began unboxing one of my frogs, “I mean, I’ve already been moved back a year because we’re so behind back home - what if it interferes with my studying?”

“You’ve been studying non-stop since you got your books,” Fred pointed out, “If anything, it might set you back enough to stay at the same level as the other third years. But real- hey, watch it!” He was pointing to my frog, which in my distraction, had hopped out of my hands and out into the hall before I could grab it.

“That’s some bad luck right there,” George pointed out, “but at least you got two. What’s the card say?” I pulled the card from the bottom and looked to see a dark-skinned woman smiling at me, a beater’s bat on her shoulder. I turned the card over to the bio.

“Gwenog Jones,” I read, “Captain and beater of the all-female national Quidditch team, the Holyhead Harpies.”

“There!” Lee shouted, standing and gesturing madly at the card in my hands, “It’s a sign! It’s got to be! You’ve got to play now!” I laughed humorlessly.

“Yeah, right, because a chocolate frog card with a famous Quidditch player on it absolutely means that I should play Quidditch.”

“It _could_ be a sign,” Fred pointed out, “You’re taking Divination, after all, you must think this means _something_?” I rolled my eyes, ignoring him in favor of opening - and this time, actually eating - my second chocolate frog. I nabbed it before it could leap away, biting its head off as I passed the box and card over to Lee. He pulled the card out, reading over the back.

“Cyprian Youdle, only Quidditch referee to die during a Quidditch match...” This time, I practically roared with laughter.

“See what I mean?” I asked, still laughing, “If that first card was a sign, then what would that make this? No, I’d much rather it meant nothing.” We all broke into laughter, our previous arguments forgotten as the ride continued on to Hogwarts.


	7. Of Flying Cars and Sorting Hats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost to Hogwarts! (it took my nearly 6 months to finish this chapter b/c of school, and it's 1 am right now. Good Night).

I couldn't remember how long I had been on the train, but I wanted nothing more than to get off. Lee ran off about an hour ago - I think, considering I don't have a watch - to meet up with some other friends of his and the twins. Fred and George tried to play it off as if they didn't want to leave me here, but I told them to go on, and they went off with him. They told me they'd come back soon, but frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if they got distracted and I didn't see them until we got to the station. Frodo had been awake a while, and was laying across my shoulders, chewing numerous holes into the end of my ribbon, but other than him, I was alone.

_This is so boring_ , I thought, sitting in the compartment by myself. Even the thrill of going to Hogwarts wasn't enough to really sustain my energy, and most of the candy had run out ages ago; the only piece left was the last bit of Drooble's gum that I was chewing as I gazed out the window. I blew a tiny, blue bubble and bit the end, disconnecting it from the remaining gum in my mouth and letting it float around me in the compartment with seven other identical bubbles.

_I suppose now's as good a time as ever to figure out what I'm gonna do about that diary_ , I thought to myself, _and anything else I've missed so far_. I sat up in my seat, pulling a leather-bound notebook and a black pen from under the blanket in Frodo's basket. Opening to a blank page, I thought hard about what else - besides the diary - that I had to worry about this year.

Let's see… I decided to make a list, to try and organize my thoughts.

**YEAR TWO**   
**Tom Riddle's diary (Ginny)**   
**Chamber of Secrets**   
**Basilisk**   
**Gilderoy Lockhart - FRAUD**   
**Dobby**

"What am I missing?" I muttered, chewing on the top of the pen. That couldn't possibly be all there was in the book, could it? I thought hard for a moment about the films as well, and briefly remembered a scene involving Ron being yelled at by a letter in a bright red envelope.

_Gasp!_ "The howler!" I exclaimed, startling Frodo and making him run to hide under the seats, "How could I forget about the howler?!" It had been one of my favorite moments in the series, watching Ron get chewed out by a letter in front of the entire Great Hall. _Mrs. Weasley was so_ furious _at them for going to school in-_

"Look! A flying car!" I shouldn't have been able to hear the students in the other compartments, but the yell echoed down the hall just the same. I rushed outside my compartment to stand with a few other students, and stared out the window before us just in time to see a black-haired boy climb back into a powder blue car before it flew above the clouds once more.

"The Ford Anglia…" I muttered, thankfully remaining unheard amongst the chatter and cheers of the students around me. A little farther down the hall I could hear familiar voices, and turned to see the twins and Lee cheering vigorously for their brother's most recent choice of rule-breaking.

"That's our brother! That's our brother!" Fred and George cheered, shit-eating grins plastered across their faces as they high-fived many of the people around them. I rolled my eyes at them, but couldn't fight my own smile as I walked over to join them.

"You realize, of course, that they could get expelled for this, yes?" I ask them. They just laughed.

"C'mon, Rosie-Posie!" George said, throwing an arm around my shoulders.

"It's not everyday someone gets themselves into _this_ kind of trouble before the school year even starts, y'know," Fred added as his arm slung around my waist. They steered me along with them back to our compartment, sitting me down between them - not an easy feat, either, given that there really was only room for two people per bench; I could barely move from where I was squished in the middle of the pair.

"So, did you miss us while we were gone?" George asked, twirling one of my pink curls around his finger.

"Was dear Miss Rosie-Posie all lonesome without ickle Gred and Forge?" I laughed as Fred batted his eyes at me and pushed him away, moving over to the open space while he sat himself across from me.

"Okay, is that my new nickname or something?" I asked, choosing to ignore the previous goofy conversation, "I mean, you've called me that about three or four times since my arrival."

"Well of course, it is!" I rolled my eyes, shoving my shoulder against George.

"But Rosie is _already_ a nickname!" I whined. The twins stopped at looked over at me, matching fox-like grins on their faces. _Oops._

" _Reeaaally?_ " Fred drawled, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward.

"What _ever_ for?" George leered as well, shifting closer into my personal space. I didn't move, shifting my gaze between the two of them a few times suspiciously.

"I'm going to regret bringing that up, aren't I?" Neither answered. I sighed. "It's Rosaline."

" _Rosaline_?!"

"What kind of a name is _that_?!" I puffed out my reddening cheeks as they began laughing at me.

"It's not funny!" I shouted, though it seemed to only increase their laughter. I rubbed my temples. _Yup, I'm_ definitely _going to regret telling them that…_

* * *

Hours passed, as could be seen from the darkening sky above us, but it seemed like mere minutes before the time had come for us to change into our uniforms. I kicked the twins out of the compartment - with Frodo guarding the door - while I slipped out of my dress and into the white blouse and thick, black skirt that stopped just above my knees. I tried to tie the black tie around my neck, but after several failures, simply left it hanging around my shoulders as I exchanged my white socks and heels for a pair of black knee-highs and mary janes. I then pulled the bow from my hair and proceeded to twist it into a messy bun on the top of my head before re-pinning the bow on the top.

"Rosa _line_!" the twins whined through the other side of the door, "Let us _in_!" They pressed their full weight against the door - whether to push it open by force or to simply annoy me, I couldn't guess. I gave an exaggerated sigh, taking my time as I dragged my feet to the compartment door.

"Oh, all right!" I relented. I swung the door open quickly, and Frodo was just lucky enough to move behind my legs as both boys fell in a heap of tangled limbs in the doorway. I laughed at them, clutching my sides as they tried to stand themselves back up.

"Yeah, _real_ funny, Rosie," Fred grumbled as he brushed some non-existent dirt from his shoulders. I just smirked, crossing my arms over my chest and raising my chin.

"That's what you get for leaning on doors, boys." George shook his head, a small smile gracing his features.

"Don't get all smug about it." He winked, "There'll be no living with you." I stuck my tongue out at him before we all sat back down in our seats; Lee walked in behind them, also dressed in his robes and took the seat across from Fred next to George. I looked out the window as we began passing some dark woods, the lack of light from outside making it difficult to see past our own reflections.

"So, you thought any about what house you'll be in?" George asked. Lee perked up at the question.

"That's right, you haven't been sorted yet, have you?" He grinned at me, "Will you have to do that with the first years tonight?" I shrugged.

"She'll probably have to ride in the boats with them as well," Fred laughed, and I gave him a half-hearted glare.

"What's so wrong with _that_ , might I ask?" I crossed my arms over my chest, knocking my tie off my shoulders and into the floor, where Frodo proceeded to attack it by my feet. George reached down to pick it up for me, chuckling as the little kitten - his claws stuck in the silken fabric - was lifted with it, and unceremoniously dropped the two back into my lap.

"Well, to be fair," Fred pointed out as I carefully tried to pull Frodo's claws from the tie without ripping it, "you seem like you'd fit well with them - can't even be bothered to tie your tie!" I snorted.

"Never had to wear one before,"I said simply. Frodo, having been removed from my tie, seemed suddenly bored, and hopped into his basket, curling up and falling asleep almost instantly. I shook my head. _What a lazy cat…_

"Here," Fred took the tie from my hands and wrapped it around my neck. Lifting my collar, he tied in a complex-looking knot before tucking it back under the collar again. He then handed me the gray sweater-vest I had placed with the rest of my stuff. "You're gonna want to put that on, as well - gets right cold at the castle this time of night." I scoffed at the thought.

"Oh please, Fred," I replied, standing as I felt the train begin to slow beneath us, "it's _September_. How cold could it possibly be? Besides, I've got these thick robes to protect me - honestly, you'd think you people would die of heatstroke out here in these things." I walked over to Frodo's basket and reached under the pillow beneath him carefully, grabbing my notebook and pen again and tucking them into the pocket inside my robe before kissing his furry little head.

"See you inside, little hobbit," I whispered excitedly in his ear, earning a slight twitch, and then I headed out the compartment door, the boys following at my heels.

* * *

"Why is it so _freaking_ cold?!" I shouted into the crowd; not even two steps onto the station in Hogsmeade, and I was already regretting ignoring Fred's advice. The second I could stand it, I tore off my robe and threw it at Lee before grabbing my sweater-vest from Fred - a smug grin on his face - and pulling it on over my blouse and replacing my robes. "It's _September_ \- it shouldn't be this cold!"

"Oh c'mon, Rosie," George laughed, seemingly unperturbed at the chilly weather, "It's not so bad - maybe 9 or 10 Celsius out here."

"And what's that in Fahrenheit?!" I snapped at him, "Pretty _fucking_ cold, that's what!" The three boys laughed at me, but I ignored them in favor of huddling farther into my robes. _Why, Scotland, why do you have to be so_ freezing _?!_

"Miss McIntosh?" A voice called behind us, and I turned around to see a rather short, plump witch standing behind me. Her silvery hair feel in short waves, though most of it remained hidden beneath a worn, patched hat on her head. The dress she wore underneath her dark robes may once have resembled a golden-yellow color, though now it seemed age and dirt had faded it to more of a sandy shade, with darker spots lining the bottom hem. Her hands were clasped neatly in front of her, though the dirt surrounding her nails gave the impression that she had never cleaned beneath them before in her life. Her face was lightly tanned - though I couldn't tell if it was from the sun or just more dirt - and her mouth was spread into a wide, cheerful smile.

"Evening, Professor Sprout," George called next to me, and I instantly perked up. _Of course, who else would have so much dirt under their nails here?_

"Hello, Weasleys, Jordan," she greeted them, before turning back to me, "I am Professor Sprout. Professor Dumbledore has sent me to bring you to the castle; you'll be sorted just before the first years." I nodded, turning back to wave to the guys before following the professor into a nearby carriage and making our way to Hogwarts.

The trip itself was fairly quiet, aside from a few questions on my part, and her answers as well. Mostly, I was content to look out the window at the scene before me, leading up to the castle itself. I could see a massive lake in the distance on the right - with the quidditch pitch not far from there, and an even larger, more foreboding forest to the left. Near the edge of the forest was a relatively large, wooden cabin, with a fence around one side and smoke puffing from the chimney. Somewhat farther off, I thought I could see something land in a large, mangled-looking tree some ways past the cabin.

Soon, however, we arrived before the other carriages at the front door to Hogwarts castle. I climbed out the carriage slowly, my jaw likely dragging somewhere near my toes, as I gazed on the sight before me in complete awe and amazement.

" _Wow…_ " I whispered. I had never seen anything so... _magical_ in my entire life. Nothing could have prepared me for the feeling of absolute wonder filling me from head to toe just at the sight of it. It was far bigger than I had even dreamed of, with as many towers and corridors as students lurking within. Every window seemed to be glowing, like they were each filled with a golden fire to keep the students warm from the frosty air. A hand - Professor Sprout's - gently took me by the elbow and began leading me inside.

The inside was just as magnificent as the outside, if not more so. The entrance hall, and everything beyond, was built from light stones and polished marbles, with gold accents lining the different portraits and other decorations on the walls. I tried to take it all in, but we moved swiftly into another room down the hall, where another witch was standing waiting for us.

"Here she is, Minerva," Professor Sprout said, releasing my arm. I looked up at the woman before us, now knowing her to be Professor McGonagall - though it would have been fairly obvious to me anyway, as she so powerfully resembled a slightly younger Maggie Smith. Her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled into a harsh bun, and tucked neatly underneath a green velvet hat. Square glasses sat on the bridge of her thin, pointed nose, and her mouth was set into a stern frown. Her emerald robes touched the ground, but didn't drag - merely glided across the stones with each step she took towards us.

"Thank you, Pomona," she spoke - _even her_ voice _is the same_ \- before turning to me, "Good evening, Miss McIntosh." I smiled to her.

"Good evening, Professor." Professor Sprout patted my shoulder for a moment before she left, exiting through a side door into what I assumed was the great hall. Professor McGonagall, for a moment, seemed to smile at me in return, before continuing.

"Professor Dumbledore has informed me of your… _situation_ , McIntosh," she stated. _Well, she doesn't beat around the bush, does she?_ "After you are sorted, your head of house - should you not be in Gryffindor - will also be informed, and you can go to them with your troubles from there. You'll be waiting in here while the first years enter the hall, and be introduced and sorted just after the Sorting Hat sings its song. Do you understand?" I nodded.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good," She nodded to me, "Now, don't wander off. Professor Dumbledore and I have some business to attend to involving Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley's particular _arrival_ at the castle tonight." I winced, but she left before I could say anything, her stride powerful and somewhat furious-looking.

"Well, I guess all that's left to do is wait…" I huffed to myself, glancing around me. There weren't many things for me to look at as I waited, so I simply stood by the door, twiddling my thumbs as I counted the seconds until I was to be sorted. I could hear some ambient chatter through the door, and assumed that the older students had filed into the hall and taken their seats at their house tables.

_I wonder where I'll get placed…_ I wondered. I hadn't really thought much about it before, but it suddenly hit me as I stood there how impossible it all seemed for me to be sorted into my Hogwarts house. I thought about heading down past the kitchens each night in yellow-trimmed robes, or pulling all-nighters in the library with other Ravenclaws, or even curling up on red-velvet couches between the first two friends I had made in this world.

_At least I know I won't be in Slytherin,_ I sighed internally with relief, _They don't let muggleborns in there, and I'd rather stay as far from them as possible._ Suddenly, the chatter on the other side of the door quieted down, and I stepped over to crack it open and peek through at the scene. Underneath waves of floating candles, I could only see two of the four tables - the Slytherin and Ravenclaw ones being closest to my hiding spot - but they were nearly full up. Just past a table decorated with blue and bronze drapings, I saw a line of students in black robes walking towards the front of the hall.

Pushing the door open a little wider, I could see one of the legs on the wooden stool in front of the teacher's table, where the new students gathered once they made it forward. Next to the stool stood an extremely short, pale man with wild, white hair and wearing slightly baggy, olive-green robes - it didn't take long for me to recognize him as Professor Flitwick. Flitwick smiled brightly at all the students before him, holding a large scroll in one of his small, meaty hands - the list of names for the sorting, no doubt.

After all the first year students had gathered at the front, another professor I didn't recognize placed an old, ratty-looking hat on the stool and stepped back. I, along with all the other students, waited with baited breath as a seam opened on its side, and the hat began to sing.


	8. Chapter 8 - A Feast, a Family, and a Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosie finally gets sorted - which house will she be in?

  
" _At first you’d think me ugly,_  
But there’s more than that to me;  
I'll show you something deep inside,  
Beyond what your eyes can see.

_This old Sorting Hat has its job,_  
And it goes just like so:  
I’ll take a peek inside your head  
And put you where you need to go. 

_Four houses await you today,_  
Each great in their own right;  
They each will soon become your home,  
Starting from tonight. 

_Perhaps you’ll be in Gryffindor,_  
Where the bravest show their nerve;  
They’ll be chivalrous and noble,  
To get the praise that they deserve. 

_You may find home with Hufflepuff,_  
Where honesty is key;  
And their hard-work and loyalty  
Helps us all learn to agree. 

_Or maybe you belong in Ravenclaw,_  
With your wit beyond compare;  
Their creative hearts and clever minds,  
Are unlike else anywhere. 

_You might belong in Slytherin_  
For those of great ambition;  
They use their sly and cunning natures,  
To do anything of their volition. 

_So now at last, my song is done,  
Though not to your chagrin;  
The time has come, so put me on,  
And let the sorting now begin! _"_  
_   


  


* * *

  
I smiled as the rest of the hall dissolved into scattered applause. _I don’t think that’s one of the song from any of the books…_ I thought to myself, and I started wondering if the song changed every year when Professor Flitwick stepped forward again.

“Welcome, all, to a new year at Hogwarts,” he said, his voice somewhat high-pitched and squeaking, “Before we begin sorting the first year students into their houses, we have a new exchange student from Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in North America. She will be spending her third year as well as the remainder of her schooling here with us, and therefore, needs to be sorted - Miss Rosie McIntosh.” I stood up straighter, opening the door fully and directing everyone’s attention to me.

_That’s a lot of people…_ I shook the thought from my head, and stepped out into the Great Hall. I couldn’t afford to get nervous now. My steps, however, remained slightly hesitant as I made my way over to the Sorting Hat. I kept my gaze facing the stool, though I thought I could see Fred and George give me a thumbs-up as I neared the Gryffindor table. I smiled at them for a moment, then moved to stand before the Sorting Hat.

_I guess it’s now or never…_ The professor helping Flitwick - a dark-skinned witch whose robes glittered like the stars projecting on the ceiling above our heads - removed the hat from the stool. I took a deep, calming breath, and sat down, meeting Fred and George’s gaze once more before the hat fell over my eyes.

“ **Ah, now this is an interesting development…** ” I nearly jumped - I had been expecting to hear the Sorting Hat’s voice in my head, but the suddenness still shocked me. “ **You’re not supposed to be here, are you?** ”

_No shit, Sherlock_ , I thought to the hat, earning a small chuckle.

“ **Such a curious development,** ” the hat wondered, “ **and oh, the things you know… Such dangerous knowledge, should it fall in the wrong hands… But where to put you...** ” I had a sudden thought, similar to Harry’s irrational fear from his sorting, of being sent away without being sorted at all. That there had been a mistake; that I really _wasn’t_ supposed to be here at all. I shook the image from my mind, and was thankful when the hat ignored it.

“ **You know much, yes, but there is no thirst for it - Ravenclaw wouldn’t be a good match, no…** ” That much, I had figured from the start; I had always been smart, sure, but if I couldn’t apply the knowledge somehow, then I wouldn’t bother with it. _I’ll likely be awful in History of Magic… and Herbology…_

“ **Ambitious, I see, and cunning as well…** ” the hat continued, ” **Planning to put that knowledge to good use, eh? You might do well in Slytherin…** ” I frowned at its words.

_Bad idea_ , I told it, remembering the students I saw at the table draped in silver and green; their glares and vicious smirks from when I first stepped out would forever be imprinted in the back of my mind.

“ **True, true, they’ll eat you alive. Not Slytherin, then… Hmm…** ” I wondered idly how long I had been up there; if I strained my ears, I could just barely hear hushed whispers floating about the hall.

“You have great loyalty, and an honest nature… Hufflepuff might work well, though you are lacking in patience...” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the comment. “ **Ah, but bravery is there, as well… A need for justice, and such a hot temper - Gryffindor would be a good fit, as well.** ”

_So it’s between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor?_ I thought; I could definitely hear the chatter now - I must have been here nearly three minutes by now.

“ **You would do better in Hufflepuff, I think…** ” the hat answered, humming to itself, “ **You’ve made friends in Gryffindor, yes, but you’re much too humble for their house...** ” I snorted at that one; I was almost certain Fred and George had never heard the word before in their lives.

“ **Though, being in Gryffindor may help you with your...quest.** ” I thought about that for a moment. Being in Gryffindor would make it easier to keep an eye on the others - Ginny and the “Golden Trio”, in particular… But I already knew so much about Gryffindor house. I found myself imagining just how different my quest might turn out were I in Hufflepuff; I wanted to learn more about the house - and really, how much harder could it be?

_I’ll trust you to make the right decision_ , I thought finally to the hat, _After all, you’re very rarely wrong._ The hat chuckled.

“ **That I am,** ” it responded, and I shut my eyes tight in anticipation of what the decision would turn out to be, “ **Then that leaves only one choice...** ” A hush seemed to fall over the hall, and I realized that the hat must have spoken aloud.

_Here we go…_

“ **HUFFLEPUFF!** ” The hall erupted into cheers as the hat was lifted from my head. I could feel my cheeks beginning to hurt from my smiling, but I ignored it and quickly moved over toward the table to my immediate left, sitting under yellow and black banners and other decorations. A few students, who I assumed were around my age, made some room for me right across from where Fred and George were sitting at the Gryffindor table next to us.

_They must have told them to move over for me_ , I thought with a laugh, _Probably want to get on to me for not being in Gryffindor, like they are. Ha!_ But not even the thought of them being fake-mad at me could get me down as I took the open seat at the table, smiling even brighter to the brown-haired girl on my right as she held out her hand.

“Hi, I’m Willow,” she said, her dark eyes shining warmly in the candlelight, “I’m a third-year, too! We’ll be in the dorms together!” I shook her outstretched hand.

“I’m Rosie,” I giggled, trying to quiet myself down as Flitwick began calling names up to get sorted, “I’m glad to meet you.”

“I’m glad to meet you, too!” She spoke a little louder as Colin Creevey was sorted into Gryffindor.

“Oi!” The two of us turned around to face the twins behind us.

“What?” I asked, smiling at the false pouts adorning both of their faces.

“How could you leave us, Rosie-Posie?” George whined.

“Yeah, after all we’ve done for you?” Fred faked a tear, and I laughed. Willow glanced between us for a moment, a strange look on her face.

“You guys… _know_ each other?” she asked hesitantly. From where we sat, I could hear Jonathan Darby get sorted into Ravenclaw.

“I’m staying with the Weasleys over the holidays while I finish school,” I answered, earning a nod, “They’re kind of my host family so long as I’m in the country.”

“Why did you come to Hogwarts? Weren’t you going to school back home?” I stiffened slightly - I couldn’t remember if Dumbledore and I had discussed what was my “official story”.

“I’m… not allowed to talk about it,” I finished lamely. A thin brow raised on Willow’s tanned face, but she seemed to buy it, and we all returned to watching the sorting, cheering as Hufflepuff got another first year, Herbert Fleet.  


* * *

  
The sorting was slow going from there; only four new Hufflepuffs (besides myself), were sorted, and only one of them, Pamela Browning, was a girl. _Can they have dorms with only one student in them?_ I wondered, but shook it off and cheered loudly as Ginny was, obviously, sorted into Gryffindor. Professor Flitwick and the teacher helping him - who Willow told was the astronomy teacher, Professor Sinistra - quickly put away the scroll and stool, before Flitwick gave a quick wave of his wand… _and the feast appeared_.

I swear my eyes must have been the size of tennis balls, I was trying so hard to see all of the food laid out before me. Various meats - steak, pork, chicken, some kind of roast - various veggie platters, meat pies, all kinds of potatoes, maybe three or four kinds of gravy, and a few baskets of breads and rolls spaced periodically between students. Not even at Thanksgiving, had I ever seen so much food before.

“Don’t just _sit_ there,” Willow nudged me, knocking me out of my stupor, “ _Eat_ , before it disappears!” Nodding quickly, I rushed to fill my plate with as much of everything as I could fit, digging in as soon as my plate was full. A few bites in, I remembered to wash down my food with what was in the golden goblet beside me, and nearly choked when I realized what it was.

_Huh, so_ that’s _what pumpkin juice tastes like…_ The spices had given it away almost immediately, but it wasn’t too bad, so I took another quick gulp and continued eating.

Professor Dumbledore returned some time after that, with another teacher following closely behind him, and Professor McGonagall not far behind him. This other teacher took a seat in one of the empty chairs on Dumbledore’s left, and I   
stared, curious.

_That must be…_ He turned to face the hall, and I froze in my seat, my fork halfway to my mouth. He turned towards my table, and I felt my throat close up as his eyes met mine.

_No way…_ Images filled my head, different scenes from a number of different movies - though most of them from the Harry Potter films. His face, changing only slightly each time, filled my head, and I choked back my tears. Was it cruelty or destiny, I couldn’t decide, that brought Alan Rickman back to us like this?

_Except that’s not Alan Rickman…_ No, the _real_ Alan Rickman had passed on not even a week before my arrival in this world, but the man with Alan Rickman’s face was sitting right before me, exactly as the films had portrayed Professor Severus Snape to be - there was no one it could be but _him_. I could even hear his voice in my head, those terrible, heart-wrenching words - _Always..._ His dark brow raised, and I turned my head back to my plate swiftly, stuffing another bite of some kind of pudding into my mouth.

_Right_ , I thought, _he can read minds… Fantastic…_ Soon, the feast disappeared to bring on dessert. I felt equally as amazed by the assortment of ice cream blocks, cakes, tarts, fruit pies, and other delectable-looking things I couldn’t seem to name. Once again, I stuffed my face full with anything I could get my hands on - I thought it might look almost pig-ish, but thankfully everyone else seemed to be in similar states around me as they, too, dug into the delicious desserts. Once everyone was full to bursting, the food and plates disappeared again, and all eyes fell on the staff table as Professor Dumbledore rose to give his start-of-term speech.

“Welcome, all, to a brand new year at Hogwarts!” His blue eyes twinkled like little stars in the candlelight as he smiled down at all of us, “Now that we’ve all finished our delectable meal, I’d like to make a few announcements before you all head to your dormitories to sleep the fullness away. First off, I’d like to welcome our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Gilderoy Lockhart.” The hall exploded with applause, accompanied by a number of dreamy sighs as some of the female students watched the new professor take a slight bow - Willow included.

“Oh, a fan of his, are you?” I asked, and she turned on my on the spot.

“Who isn’t?!” she exclaimed, glancing back at the staff table. Rolling my eyes, I looked over to see a… _very_ handsome man smiling brightly out at the student body. I hadn’t gotten a good look at him - or any at all, really - that day on Diagon Alley; his blonde hair was perfectly curled and styled atop his head, and his baby-blue eyes held the daytime sky in their crystal-clear depths. He turned towards our table, almost but not quite making eye contact, and I caught a glimpse of his perfect dimples as he winked. My knees suddenly felt weak.

_Oh dear God, **NO** …_ I shook myself from my girlish stupor, cursing my rapidly beating heart as my cheeks flushed brighter than they ever had before. I couldn’t be attracted to Gilderoy Lockhart - I simply **couldn’t**. I couldn’t afford to fall for his charms. _I_ refuse _to be one of those girls. No way, no how._

“Oh no, not you, too,” I turned around at the sound of Fred’s voice to see both twins shaking their heads at me, “We thought better of you than this, Rosaline.”

“I _am_ better than _that_ ,” I spat, trying to keep my voice down, “I just… didn’t know he looked like that, is all…”

“So, you’ve never read his books?” George asked, and I shook my head.

“Load of fiction, if you ask me.” He seemed pleased by my answer, and the two of them were about to turn back around when I grabbed onto their robes, “You’ll stop me if I start turning into one of… _them_ , won’t you?” They grinned.

“Of course.”

“What’re friends for?” I smiled gratefully, then we all turned back to Professor Dumbledore as the applause finally seemed to quiet down.

“Yes, yes, well, I think I speak for us all when I wish him ‘good luck’.” I snorted, and leaned back again really quick.

“Five galleons he’s in St. Mungo’s by July,” I whispered over Fred’s shoulder. I heard him laugh under his breath.

“Betting on the fate of our newest professor, Rosie?” he whispered back, a roguish grin on his face, “That’s tasteless and tacky… Ten galleons he gets trampled by centaurs in the Forbidden Forest.” I smirked.

“You’re on.”  


* * *

  
After we were dismissed, I decided to follow one of the Hufflepuff prefects - I think his name was Nitin Divekar - along with the first years to learn the route to take to the Hufflepuff common room. We took one of the staircases off the main halls down towards the basement, passing the portrait of fruit that concealed the entrance to the kitchens before stopping in front of a pile of barrels in a shadowy corner on the right.

“Where’s the common room?” one of the first years, Calvin Summerby asked, his messy blonde hair covering his eyes. Nitin smiled.

“It’s right through here,” he said, and directed us right in front of the barrels. Pulling out his wand, he pointed it towards the second barrel from the bottom, in the middle of the second row. He tapped it twice, then three more times. The lid to the barrel shifted and seemed to disappear, leaving an earthy tunnel open to our view. The first years gasped in awe.

“Tapping the wrong barrel, or the wrong rhythm opens on of the other barrels to douse you in vinegar, so watch out!” Nitin spoke, catching our attention, “Always remember - the barrel two from the bottom, middle of the second row, and tapped in the rhythm of ‘Helga Hufflepuff’. Now, in you go.” The first years were hesitant, but I quickly stepped forward to take a look into the tunnel; I couldn’t see much, though from what I could tell, the earthy look to the tunnel was actual dirt and soil.

_Here’s hoping I don’t constantly need to change clothes after going through here_ , I thought, before I hopped into the tunnel, and slid down the hole. Or rather, up the hole, as it seemed to go in all directions for a while before dropping me on my butt in the middle of the common room. I moved quickly out of the way of the tunnel’s exit - no way I wanted to be the next entrant’s landing cushion.

“Whoa…” I gasped as I looked around the room; The walls were a warm, sunshine yellow color, though the seemed almost orange in the glow of the fireplace - the only light source in the room at the moment; there were a few windows up near the ceiling, just above the ground outside, where the moon outside could be seen above the trees. There were various plants scattered throughout the room - small fruit trees, hanging ferns, and a few magical-looking plants I didn’t recognize - along with cushiony, yellow and brown chairs and sofas. I heard an oomph! Sound behind me, and turned to see the first years piled on top of one another, with Nitin standing above them, smiling.

“Girls dorms are in the rounded hall to the left,” he said, moving towards a particularly comfy-looking arm chair next to a small bookshelf in the corner, “and boys are the same on the right; each of the rooms has your year on the sign out front, so don’t go running into the upper years’ dorms. Breakfast starts at 7:30 sharp, and Professor Sprout will be passing out your timetables for classes around 8. I suggest you all go to bed to ensure you’re well rested for tomorrow. Welcome home.” With that, I moved over to the left of the room into a rounded alcove, with bright yellow doors lining the wall. I walked until I saw one with “Third Year Girls” written in gold, swirling script on a black sign, and pushed the door open.

_Wow_ , I thought to myself, walking in. The room was rectangular, with two wooden, four-poster beds on either side, draped in honey-gold curtains and with black, gold-trimmed sheets. At the far end of the room was another door, which I assumed led to a bathroom. My three other roommates were all already asleep, with an open bed right by Willow - who was splayed across her bed, snoring away.

“ _Mraow_ ,” I moved over to the open bed to see my trunk sitting at the foot of it, with Frodo’s empty basket rested on top of it. The kitten in question was already curled up on my pillow, blinking up at me with tired eyes. I cooed at him, giving him a quick scratch behind the ears before moving back over to the trunk. My movement was sluggish as all the food I ate caught up with me, but I soon found myself in my pj’s, crawling under the covers and snuggling up to my kitty.

“Good night, little hobbit,” I yawned, pulling the curtains around us to try to block out my roommate’s snoring. Bundled up under the covers, I closed my eyes, smiling as I began to drift off to sleep.

_Yeah_ , I thought, _I could definitely learn to call this place home..._


	9. Chapter 9 - First Day Jitters, First Day Quitters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosie's first day of classes. How hard could that be?

_We were still at the Burrow. The twins and I came in from the yard through the kitchen, carrying our brooms and laughing about the game we had just played. Mr. Weasley followed us in, just getting home from work. He greeted me like one of his own before moving to greet his wife._  
  
Harry, Ron, and Percy were already inside, stuffing their faces with the bacon sandwiches Mrs. Weasley had made for our lunch. The eight of us sat at the table to eat, and I looked around at the smiling faces of everyone around me. My eyes passed an empty chair, and I frowned.  
  
“Where’s Ginny?” I asked, and the talking stopped, everyone’s eyes falling on me. Something was wrong.  
  
“You tell us, Rosie,” Harry said dully, standing and beginning to back away slowly.  
  
“What?” I was confused, “What do you mean?”  
  
“What happened to our sister?” Fred and George asked together, though for once it actually sounded creepy to my ears. I stood up, and they all seemed to move even quicker, surrounding me on all sides as the Weasley’s kitchen faded in the background.  
  
“You were supposed to protect our family…” Mrs. Weasley’s words were cold, holding none of its usual emotion while her face didn’t change from its blank expression.  
  
“I’m trying!” I called to her, feeling almost hysteric now, “But what am I supposed to do?!”  
  
“Why didn’t you save her?!” They all began shouting accusations at me, their voices echoing and swirling around me in a confusing mess. I covered my ears as I dropped to my knees, begging and praying for them to stop.  
  
“You didn’t save me.” The shouting stopped, and I looked up to see Ginny standing above me. But she wasn’t the same. Her skin was deathly pale, and her Weasley-red hair had lost its luster - instead dull, russet waves fell just below her shoulders. Her brown eyes were flat, lacking any warmth or emotion as they stared down through to the depths of my soul. In her right hand, she was holding a black diary. I remembered.  
  
“I will,” I said, shaking my head at her, “I will save you!” She tilted her head a little, her gaze seeming unfocused.  
  
“Too late…” With that, she dropped to the floor, and Tom Riddle stood smirking behind her. I stumbled backwards, falling back to ground in my haste to get away. I heard a hiss, and stared up to see a large, scaly figure hovering over me.  
  
It’s big, yellow eyes stared at me, freezing me in place, and went in for the kill.  
  


* * *

  
My eyes shot open, my heart pounding in my chest as I tried to shake off the dream. Sweat stuck my pink bangs to my forehead, and my chest heaved as I tried to even my breathing. All I could hear were the sounds of my heart pounding, and Frodo’s purring in my ear - he, at some point, had curled up right on the top of my head to sleep - though neither sound was comforting to hear at that moment.  
  
_No more distractions_ , I thought, _I_ have _to help Ginny_. Sitting up, I moved the curtains around my bed aside and looked around the dorm room. The curtains, I figured, must have had some sort of silencing charm on them, as the moment they were moved, I could suddenly hear my dorm mates bustling about as they got ready for the first day.  
  
“Ah, finally up now, are we?” I turned my head to see a tall, broad-shouldered girl, already in uniform, standing beside my bed, sitting into her hip with her long, muscled arms crossed over her chest. Her hair fell in wild crimson waves to her shoulders, and her grey eyes glinted almost dangerously as she smiled down at me. “We were beginning to wonder when Miss America was going to wake up.”  
  
“Oh Max, leave her alone.” To my left, a black girl walked barefoot out of the bathroom, already mostly dressed in her uniform, pulling her hair into two afro puffs on the top of her head. She shot a slight glare at the red-head - Max - but the other girl didn’t seem to notice or care.  
  
“What time is it?” I asked them, stretching my arms above my head. Just behind Max, I could see Willow was still curled up in bed - not snoring, like the night before, but clearly not ready to get up for school.  
  
“Almost 7,” Max replied, earning a groan from Willow’s bed, “Breakfast starts in half an hour - you might want to get ready.” With that, she turned on her heel and quickly left the room. I stared after her, bewildered.  
  
_What’s_ her _problem?_  
  
“Don’t mind Maxine too much,” the other said, standing as she finished tying her shoes, “She’s really not all that bad, once you get to know her.” She walked over to me, a small smile on her face as she held out her hand, “I’m Tamsin, by the way, but my friends call me Tammy.” I shook her hand.  
  
“Rosie,” I replied, “Nice to meet you.” Tammy moved away again, grabbing a green canvas bag and slinging it over her shoulder.  
  
“You might want to hop in the shower now,” she stated, heading out the door, “Willow can be a bit of a mess in the mornings.” I nodded, though she didn’t hear, and shifted until my feet touched the stone floor. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as cold as I had thought it might be - _must be enchanted_. I grabbed one of my uniforms from my trunk - now with a yellow and black striped tie, yellow trimmed robes, and emblazoned with the Hufflepuff house crest - as well as my brush, some shampoo and conditioner, and my toothbrush and toothpaste. Leaving the robe, sweater, tie, and socks and shoes on my bed, I grabbed the rest and headed into the bathroom.  
  
The bathroom wasn’t necessarily huge, but it was definitely bigger than the one I shared with my sister back home, and especially bigger than the one shared between all of us at the Burrow. There was a large, white stone shower with a frosted glass door in one corner, and an even larger bathtub next to it. Each had a number of different taps and knobs - likely for both water and various types of soaps. Along the other wall was a large vanity counter, with two sinks on either end, and four mirrors spaced evenly along the length of the counter. Near the back of the room, separated from the bath and shower by another wall, were four individual bathroom stalls.  
  
“Now _this_ is a bathroom I could share…” I whispered, and quickly headed over to the shower, placing my clothes on the bench behind the wall before turning on the water and stepping inside.  
  
As I began to shampoo my hair, I thought back on the dream - or rather, nightmare - I had had the previous night. I flinched as the basilisk’s eyes flashed in my mind again.  
  
_I have to do something_ , I frowned, spreading conditioner through my pink curls, _I had to have been brought here for a reason. I can protect Ginny - I can protect_ all _of them!_ I thought back on the notes I had begun taking on the train, and wondered how many of them I could change without changing the story entirely. I turned the knob off, standing in the shower dripping in silent thought.  
  
_No more distractions_ , I vowed, _I_ will _fix this story_. With that, I grabbed a bright yellow towel and walked back out into the bathroom. The towels must have been enchanted too, I realized, for as soon as they touched my skin, I was completely dry; I decided to brush my hair out before attempting to towel dry it, just to make sure it didn’t completely mat against my head. Turns out, I needn’t have bothered - to my surprise, as I lifted the towel from my head, my hair fell to the middle of my back in perfect, ringlet curls, and somehow an even brighter shade of pink than before. I changed quickly into my shirt and skirt, and walked back out to see Willow still clinging desperately to the blankets, refusing to get up. I looked over at the clock beside Tammy’s bed - 7:14.  
  
“You know,” I drawled, slipping on a pair on over-the-knee black socks, “Breakfast starts in just a few minutes. It’d be a _shame_ if you slept in and missed it.” Willow just groaned, not even moving.  
  
“But I don’t _wanna_!” she whined, “And I’ve got time - breakfast goes until 9 anyway! Why should I have to get up now?” I shook my head, smiling at my roommate’s antics.  
  
“Because it’s the first day,” I spoke slower, as if to a small child, “And unlike _some_ people, I need someone who can show me around to my classes.” I pulled my sweater over my head, adjusting the sleeves until the ends of my white shirt-sleeves were folded over those of the sweater, and rolled up to just below my elbows.  
  
“Ugh, _fiiiine_ ,” Willow finally huffed and sat up, her brown hair sticking up in all directions. She moved sluggishly over to the bathroom, grumbling under her breath and dragging her uniform behind her as she closed the door. I laughed for a moment, then returned to pulling on my shoes from the night before and moving around to my trunk.  
  
I unpacked my books from the bag I had brought with me into this world, each with my name carefully written inside the front covers, and placed them on the little honey-colored wooden shelf next to my bed. On the shelf above it, I placed my scales and telescope set, along with all of my phials and a few pots of ink. In the drawer at the top of the shelving unit, I placed my parchment and quills just inside, leaving only one sheet and one quill out on the top of my bedside table.  
  
_I should really practice writing with a quill before class…_ I thought, grabbing a pot of ink from the shelf and opening it, placing it down beside the parchment paper. Dipping the quill in a few times, until it was almost dripping ink, I leaned over and attempted to write-  
  
“ _Mraow_ ,” Frodo, now suddenly awake, decided to jump up and onto my paper, knocking the quill out of my hand onto the floor, and nearly tipping the ink over as well.  
  
“Frodo!” I scolded, but he didn’t seem to care; he licked the back of his paw and rubbed it against his face, not even looking at my irritated expression. I rolled my eyes.  
  
“Fine,” I said, reaching over for my notebook, “I’ll just write in pen during class. But if I get in trouble, I’m blaming you.” Frodo stayed seated on the parchment, his baby blue eyes glinting in an almost mischievous way. I shook my head, opening my notebook to the page I had started on the train, and thought about what to add.  
  
_Well, I know that Dobby’s still got a lot to do this year_ , I thought, branching off from that point on my list and writing down about the sock Harry gives him to set him free - _and he… has the bludger, right_ \- and added that, too.  
  
“What am I missing?” I whispered to myself. I chewed on the end of my pen, thinking hard about everything I had been thinking about on the train.  
_Oh, right!_ I realized, _The howler! Mrs. Weasley’s gonna send Ron a howler!_  
  
“That’s today!” I stood suddenly, dropping the notebook onto the ground.  
  
“What’s today?” I jumped at Willow’s voice, turning to see her walking out of the bathroom fully-dressed, tying her hair back into a simple ponytail. I stopped.  
  
_I can’t say too much, she’ll figure it out!_  
  
“The first day of classes,” I said quickly, picking up my notebook and stuffing it back into my bag with my two other notebooks and my pens, “I had forgotten that we actually _have_ classes today, and not just, ya know, settling in.” Willow laughed, throwing an arm over my shoulder and pulling me into a side hug.  
  
“Of course we have classes today!” she said as she pulled away, grabbing my tie off the bed and tying it into a bow around my neck, “If we didn’t have classes, I wouldn’t have bothered getting up!” I untied the tie from my neck, and set it under my collar, leaving it untied for now.  
  
“Then let’s hurry up and go, so we can get our schedules!” With that, I grabbed my bag, gave Frodo a quick scratch behind the ears, and then dragged Willow out into the common room.  
  
Seeing it in the daylight made it easier to notice some of the details; pretty much all of the furniture was made of a honey-coloured wood - including the frame of the couch - and most of the plants I had seen the previous night, I now saw, were sunflowers. Above the fireplace rested a large portrait of Helga Hufflepuff herself (she looked just like the Chocolate Frog card I had gotten from Universal Studios last summer); she smiled down at us while tending a strange-looking plant on the table beside her, it’s vines snapping when people came too close. The frame surrounding the portrait was gold, with little badgers running around the edges.  
  
“C’mon, Rosie, let’s go!” Willow grabbed hold of my arm, and dragged me back towards the entrance. She let go and hopped through, sliding back up the tunnel to the basements. I slid my bag on my arm under my robe and followed her, surprisingly landing on my feet this time and we walked together quickly to make it upstairs.  


* * *

  
We sat down with Tammy and Max, and had been at breakfast for quite a while before Professor Sprout began handing out our schedules. As she passed them down along the table, she stopped and pulled me aside to talk with me before giving me mine.  
  
“Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall have told me about your situation,” she whispered, just low enough for me to hear, “If you have any troubles, or if anything comes up that you need, you just come on down to my office and I’ll do what I can, alright?” I nodded, smiling at her as she handed me my schedule and continued down the line.  
“What did she want?” Tammy asked, cutting her eggs with her fork. I shrugged.  
  
“Nothing major,” I replied, “Just making sure I knew to go to her if I have any problems. Typical exchange-student stuff, I’d imagine.” With that, I grabbed some bacon and toast and piled them on my plate, spreading strawberry jam on both before taking a bite of the little sandwich I made. The others stared at me for a moment, disgusted, but then quickly turned to look at their timetables.  
  
“Ugh, we’ve got Transfiguration with the Slytherins _again_?” Max whined, tossing her spoon back into her porridge, “That’s the third year in a row!”  
  
“Well, at least we’ve got Potions with Gryffindor this year,” Willow said with a shrug, “Maybe we’ll actually earn some points this time around. What’re your classes, Rosie?” I swallowed my bite of breakfast and reached for my schedule.  
  
  


  
__ McIntosh, Rosaline C.: Third Year  


  


**Monday:** Transfiguration, Divination, and Double Charms  


  


**Tuesday:** History of Magic, Study of Ancient Runes, and Double Herbology  


  


**Wednesday:** Double Potions, Astronomy (lecture - practical starts at 8:30pm), and Defense Against the Dark Arts  


  


**Thursday:** History of Magic, Charms, and Double Transfiguration  


  


**Friday:** Double Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, and Herbology  


“Um, I’ve got… Ancient Runes and Divination,” I said, passing Willow my schedule for her to see. She tsked.

“Drat, I’ve only got Divination.” She handed back the paper, “Looks like you’re on your own for Runes.” I looked at the three of them.

“Wait, so none of you took Ancient Runes?” They all shook their heads.

“I took Arithmancy,” Tammy shrugged, “but I think Divination is a load of tosh, so…”

“We’ve all got Care of Magical Creatures,” Max added, nodding up to the staff table, “Grubbly-Plank’s in charge of that; I’m really only interested in seeing if he loses another limb.” My eyes widened at that. _Another limb?!_

“Look, the post is here!” I couldn’t tell who said it, but the voice was right; hundreds of owls suddenly flew in, circling the hall and dropping letters onto students’ plates and laps. Over by the Gryffindor table, I saw one owl crash-land into a jug of milk by Hermione - _Errol_ ; in his beak was a slightly-damp red envelope.

“Uh oh,” Willow whispered, “Weasley’s got a howler!” I smirked.

“Probably because of that flying car we saw,” Tammy said, and I nodded.

“Get ready to cover your ears, guys,” I said as Ron reached to open the letter, “Mrs. Weasley’s loud at the best of times.” The wax seal was lifted off the letter, and our hands slammed down over our ears as Mrs. Weasley’s voice echoed through the Great Hall, shaking dust from the ceiling and sounding about 10 times louder than usual.

“ **一STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY’D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET A HOLD OF YOU, I DON’T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE一** ” Every eye was on the Gryffindor table at this point, the only sound coming from the angry red letter thoroughly scolding the youngest Weasley boy for the incident with the car. I looked over at Ron and winced - he looked terrified.

“ **一LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN’T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED一** ” I wasn’t surprised at all with her reaction to that; even if I hadn’t known about the series before coming here, a blind man could’ve seen how much that woman cared for Harry, like her own son. There wasn’t a force in the universe that could’ve made her blame him for any of the things he and Ron got in trouble for.

“ **一AND DON’T GET ME STARTED WITH ROSIE, DID YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT WHAT YOUR ACTIONS WOULD DO, IF THE MINISTRY DECIDED OUR FAMILY WASN’T RESPONSIBLE ENOUGH THEY’D SEND THAT POOR GIRL BACK HOME AND IT’D BE BECAUSE OF YOU一** ” I shrunk in my seat a little at that, multiple sets of eyes turning to look at me. I hadn’t even thought about how their actions could’ve affected me; I suppose it’d make sense if the Ministry were to have a say in my staying in the country, but that didn’t make this situation any less awkward.

“ **一ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED一 YOUR FATHER’S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT’S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE’LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME!** ” A ringing silence fell as the letter finally stopped shouting, turning to face Ginny further along their table.

“ **Oh, and Ginny, dear, congratulations on making Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud.** ” Everyone looked to the youngest Weasley, her face hidden behind a curtain of red hair. Finally, the letter turned back to Ron and blew a raspberry at him as it burst into flames and curled into ashes. I held back a snort.

_Well_ that _was unexpected…_ A few people laughed - after a bit of hesitation - and soon the hall was filled with the ambient sound of chatter again. Not long after that, two people slid onto the bench on either side of me, wrapping their arms around my shoulders. I just continued eating, ignoring the twins.

“I don’t think I’ve heard Mum so mad before, have you Fred?”

“Not at us, George, that’s for sure.” The three girls just stared at us, not doing anything. Fred reached over and took my schedule, looking over it before passing it to George.

“Look at that, Rosie,” George said, pushing the paper in my face as I tried to take another bite of my food, “We’ve got the same break this afternoon!”

“And the same breaks on Thursdays _and_ Fridays, as well,” Fred drawled, snatching some bacon off my plate and stuffing it in his mouth. I stared at him, unimpressed.

“So I get to be graced with your presence not once, but four times each week?” I asked in a monotone. They just smiled. I shook my head, throwing their arms off my shoulders and downing the rest of my juice in one gulp.

“Let’s go down and get our books,” Tammy suggested finally, “We’ve only got about twenty minutes until class starts.” The three of us nodded and stood to leave.

“Love to stay and chat, boys,” I threw over my shoulder, “but some of us actually _want_ to go to class.”  


* * *

  
We all ran into the classroom just before class started - having taken too long to help Willow find her books - to see almost everyone already seated, and a gray tabby cat perched on the desk, with dark, square markings around its eyes.  
  
“Why is there a cat?” I asked the others, taking a seat next to Tammy near the front; Willow and Max chose to sit further back. Tammy gasped, looking suddenly excited.  
“It must be Professor McGonagall!” she whispered, “We must be starting the Animagus lesson today!” I perked up at her words, feeling just as excited as she looked.  
  
_How_ cool _would it be to be an animagus?!_ I thought to myself, imagining myself transforming into a number of different animals, _I wonder which one I would be…_ Soon after I had that thought, the cat suddenly moved, leaping off the desk. If I had blinked, I would have missed it - the cat transformed in mid-air, with Professor McGonagall landing a few feet from the desk, smiling slightly at all of our impressed looks. Everyone applauded.  
  
“Whoa…” I whispered as I clapped, seeing Tammy nod from the corner of my eye.  
  
“How did you _do_ that?!” One of the Slytherin students asked as the clapping died down, standing and pointing one of his grubby fingers at Professor McGonagall. She stared hard at him, one brow raised.  
  
“That, Mr. Lofthouse, is the subject of today’s lesson,” she replied, not blinking as he sat back down slowly in his seat. She turned back to all of us, moving towards the front of the room.  
  
“This year, you all are going to start by studying Animagi.” She waved her wand, and the chalk near the board floated up and begin writing notes on the board, “Now to start who can tell me exactly what an animagus is?” My hand shot up immediately as I remembered the passages I had read over the summer. “Miss McIntosh?”  
  
“An animagus is a witch or wizard who elects to turn into an animal,” I answered, earning a nod.  
  
“Excellent, ten points to Hufflepuff,” she said, and my heart swelled with pride. _I just earned my first house points!_ Some of the Slytherins scowled at me, but I ignored them as Tammy patted my shoulder with a smile. “Now class, take out your quills and begin your notes.” Instead of taking out a quill, however, I grabbed one of my notebooks and a pen from my bag and began copying from the board.  
  
“Where’s your quill?” Tammy whispered to me.  
  
“Yes, where is your quill, Miss McIntosh?” I looked up to Professor McGonagall, who was staring disapprovingly at the pen in my hand. I gulped. _Busted._  
  
“Well…” I started, fiddling with my pen a bit, “I never really had to use a quill much back home, so I’m not very good with them yet. Until I can get some practice in, I figured it might be better to at least have readable notes.” I sat there, shifting awkwardly under McGonagall’s gaze. She hesitated a moment, then nodded slightly.  
  
“I expect you to be using a quill in my class before the month is out, Miss McIntosh,” she said simply before turning back to the board and continuing the lesson.  


* * *

  
“I can’t believe she assigned us a whole 12 inches of homework on the _first day_!” Willow whined. The two of us, having separated from Tammy and Max after Transfiguration ended, had taken almost our entire morning break trying to find the North Tower for Divination class. We had finally found the classroom entrance a few minutes ago, and were waiting with the rest of our class for the trapdoor above our heads to open. I covered a snicker at her words with my hand. _12 inches… Oh, the places I could go with_ that _joke…_  
  
“It shouldn’t be that hard,” I assured her, “We’re just supposed to discuss the differences between Animagi and Human Transfiguration. It’s all in the book.”  
  
“But I didn’t _read_ the book!” I laughed as she began banging her copy of _Unfogging the Future_ on her forehead. That moment, the trapdoor opened, and we began climbing the unfolded steps up into the classroom. The moment I stepped inside, I was assaulted by the mixed scent of tea, incense, and mothballs. I coughed a bit to clear my head, and looked around.  
  
The room was doused in a light smoke - likely from whatever incense was burning - but through it, everything looked like a strange combination of an antique shop and some little girl’s tea party. All the furniture seemed very old, and was covered from top to bottom in frilly, lacy pillows, doilies, and tablecloths. Along the rounded wall by the small fireplace were shelves of various tea cups, crystal balls, and other trinkets likely used for the class. Standing by one of the many small tables in the room was a tall, thin woman with untamed brown curls, large, thick glasses on her face, and draped in numerous scarves and shawls, reminding me of some of the homeless people I’d see wandering around Atlanta sometimes.  
  
“So…” she whispered, gazing around at us with magnified eyes, “you may have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can take you only so far in this field…” We stared in silence at her, many of us with skeptical looks on our faces, including my own. _This is Professor Trelawney? She seems just as looney as she did in the books…_ We all slowly began making our way to our seats, each sitting two or three to a table.  
  
“To start us off, you will all be reading tea leaves with a partner,” she said, waving her wand to send tea pots to each of the tables, “One person from each table grab a cup for you and your partner - oh, Mr. Belby, do avoid the pink ones, please, they are my favorite.” I stood to grab cups for me and Willow, watching as Marcus Belby, a Ravenclaw boy, dropped an orange and green cup and it shattered on the ground. I grabbed a blue cup and a white cup, and placed them in the middle of the table to let Willow decide - she chose the white one.  
  
Following Professor Trelawney’s instructions, we each poured some water into our cups of loose tea leaves and let the seep, before drinking most of it. I grimaced at the bitterness of the drink - _this is why Southerners drink it sweet_ \- but swallowed it anyway, swirling the last dregs of the tea before draining it over the plate. Willow and I then traded cups to read each other’s fortunes, glancing at the book for interpretations.  
  
“What do you see in mine?” Willow asked me as she flipped through the book. I looked down at the cup in my hands. Very clearly, I could see what looked like a door on one side, with a corkscrew not far from it, and on the opposite side was what appeared to be a pair of handcuffs.  
  
“Well,” I said, looking quickly at the book’s interpretations, “you’ve got a door, a corkscrew, and handcuffs.”  
  
“What’s that mean?”  
  
“A door, I think, means a strange occurrence,” I replied, looking up from the page, “and a corkscrew is curiosity leading to trouble, and and handcuffs symbolise trouble ahead. So, something strange is going to happen, and you’re going to be curious about it, and that curiosity will lead you to danger.” She nodded as I placed the cup back on the plate, though she didn’t seem all that convinced. “What do you see in my cup?”  
  
“Um, I guess…” she flipped through the book again, “a loop? The number 5, and… an iceberg, maybe?” I felt a shiver run down my spine; something about that didn’t seem good.  
  
“And what does that mean?” I asked, but Professor Trelawney came over before she could answer.  
  
“How are the predictions going for you girls?” she asked, and Willow sighed.  
  
“I’m not getting any of this,” she said, handing my cup to the professor, “I don’t think I’m reading this right at all.” Trelawney held the cup in her hands, gazing carefully at the leaves inside.  
  
“Oh dear,” she whispered, “You’ve got some bad luck indeed, my dear…” Suddenly, it seemed the whole class had stopped to hear my fortune.  
  
“What does it say, Professor?” I asked, dreading her answer. She looked at me, her dark green eyes magnified behind her round glasses as they stared beyond my face and into my very soul.  
  
“My dear, there is much danger ahead in your future,” she whispered, “In five days time, I believe your impulsive actions could lead to much trouble. Should you fail, I see a stoney fate in your future…”


	10. Chapter 10 - The One With the Montage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first week of classes goes by smoothly, right? What about Rosie's dream? And Trelawney's prediction?

I could hear Willow chatting endlessly in my ear as we walked to lunch after class, but I wasn’t paying attention. My mind was swirling around Professor Trelawney’s prediction for me, trying desperately to grasp just what meaning was hidden behind her words.

_Five days time_ , I chewed on my lip as I thought, _What could be happening in five days? And what did she mean by “stoney fate”?_

“―osie… _ROSIE!!_ ” I snapped my head up, looking over at Willow’s exasperated face, “Were you even listening?” I shrugged my shoulders, feeling sheepish.

“Sorry,” I said, “I’m still thinking about Trelawney’s prediction…” I trailed off as Willow groaned beside me, slinging an arm around my shoulders.

“Re- _laaaaax_ ,” she whined, “That class is such a joke! You saw how barmy she was - complete nutter! Bet she was making all that up, I mean, look at what she said to Belby!” I nodded slightly, remembering. Poor Marcus Belby had been Trelawney’s latest ‘grim’ prediction to date, though after everything I had seen from both the books and the films, I wasn’t so sure they were as made up as they seemed; even Ron and Harry’s fake predictions had a way of coming true, in the end.

“I suppose…” I responded, then frowned, “What’s ‘barmy’?” Willow just laughed and steered me towards the table as we entered the Great Hall. Tammy and Max were already there, though Max was involved in a heated argument with another Hufflepuff - though I didn’t recognize him as one of the boys from our year.

“―and if you would just practice your bloody backswing, we _might_ be able to clinch the cup this year!” The boy’s ears began turning violet.

“My _bloody backswing_ is in perfect order, O’Flaherty!” he argued venomously, “And frankly, if you’d quit bumphing every time someone in the crowd dislikes our plays, we _might have a better chance of winning _every year__.” With that, the boy shoved himself off the seat and stormed out of the hall. Willow quickly filled the spot he previously occupied, dragging me down with her.

“You and Rickett in another lover’s spat, I take it?” she said as she piled a handful of strange pastries and load after load of roasted potatoes on her plate. Max glowered at her.

“Shut it,” she growled, “We were discussing practices - we’re starting next week, after tryouts.” I perked up at that, staring intensely at Max.

“ _Quidditch_ tryouts?” I clarified, watching Willow freeze halfway through chewing from the corner of my eye. Max wasn’t nearly as fazed, digging into the food on her plate.

“Yup,” she said through a mouthful of some kind of casserole, “Truman graduated last year, so we’ve got a spot open. Why, thinkin’ of tryin’ out?” I started to answer.

“NO!” Willow threw her food back onto her plate and clamped a hand over my mouth, “You can’t join! Then I’ll be the only Hufflepuff in our year who isn’t trying out!” I laughed, though it was muffled under her hand. I grabbed her fingers and shoved her hand from my face.

“Just because we try out doesn’t guarantee us a spot on the team, ya know,” I reminded her. Max snorted.

“Tell that to Smith,” she said, nodding in the direction of a skinny blond boy further along the table; looking at him, from his haughty expression to his upturned nose, I knew _exactly_ who it was without even asking, “He thinks, just ‘cos he _might_ be descended from Hufflepuff, he rightfully deserves a spot on the team.” I scoffed and turned back to the dish of fries in front of me.

_Well, that explains how he found his way into this house_ , I thought as I shoved a few fries - sorry, _chips_ \- in my mouth, _That and any other house would have killed him by now._

“Isn’t Zacharias a first-year, though?” Tammy asked, earning a nod from Max.

“Exactly, he’s not even allowed to try out this year, and he _still_ expects to join,” Max turned back to me then, “But you could. You any good?” I shrugged.

“I practiced some over the summer, with the Weasleys,” I admitted, “and I have my own broom.” Max nodded.

“We’ve got to fill the keeper spot that Truman left open,” Tammy spoke, sipping her vegetable stew, “plus it wouldn’t hurt to add a few reserves. Try and practice that while you can, yeah? Tryouts are Sunday, in the pitch.”

“They _would_ be Saturday, if a certain Gryffindor hadn’t booked it for the _whole day_ …” Max mumbled under her breath. The other two just rolled their eyes, and I laughed.

_And I’ve got this to look forward to for the next four years…_ I smiled at the new friends I had made, watching them joke and laugh as they ate, _This is gonna be amazing…_

* * *

After I finished my lunch, I dropped off some of my things in my dorm and unpacked the rest of my things while the others went to spend time with other friends of theirs. I carefully pulled my Cleansweep Seven out of my bag - careful not to snag any of the twigs - and stood it carefully by the wardrobe beside my bed. Opening the wardrobe, I noticed a few hangers - enough to hang the other sets of my uniform and other robes, with my regular clothes remaining in the trunk - and enough space in the drawer below to store all of my shoes.

_Perfect_ , I thought as I began hanging my robes inside, _now I just need to find a place to put my trunk._ That proved to be easier said than done; it took some serious squeezing, but after nearly twenty minutes, I finally pushed the trunk inside the wardrobe as well, just underneath my robes. I then set up Frodo’s space beside my bed - with him, once again, fast asleep on my bed. I shook my head, _Lazy cat..._

“Well, at least that’s over,” I said, wiping the imaginary dust from my hands. I grabbed the sheets of parchment I’d left on my desk, along with my Charms textbook, a few quills and an inkwell, tucking them carefully into my bag. With a quick scratch behind Frodo’s ears, I headed back into the common room, picking out a little table below the windows, with a little pot of sunflowers on the corner.

“Time to start practicing.” I pulled back out the parchment and quills, setting them aside as I set up the inkwell, along with my notes from Transfiguration earlier; I figured the best practice would also help with revising our lesson, propping the notebook open in my lap as I dipped the quill in the ink a few times until it was dripping.

_Maybe that’s too much?_ I thought, remembering the unreadable mess I had written back at the Burrow. I tapped the end on the edge of the little pot, knocking off the excess until it stopped dripping. Satisfied, I put the quill to the parchment and tried to write.

Keyword: _tried._

This time, instead of splattering the paper with multiple ink blots, half of my words didn’t show up at all. And by half, I mean parts of different letters simply wouldn’t write. I only managed half a T, most of an R, a few A’s, and one line of an N in “Transfiguration” at the top of the paper. Sighing in frustration, I dipped the quill back into the ink pot harshly, and tried to correct the missing pieces.

“You’ve got to be _kidding_ me!” I screeched, drawing attention from the rest of the room; in trying to rewrite the words, I somehow had managed to simply smear ink all over the top of the parchment - with no trace of a word in sight. I growled, throwing the quill on the page and splattering ink all over it, as well as the table, the sunflowers, and me.

“Great, just great…” I wiped my hand on my cheek, smearing some of the ink that landed there. Suddenly, I heard a knocking sound. I looked round a bit; some of the people in the common room were also glancing around for the source of the sound, but most of their attention was focused above my head. Confused, I turned around and looked up to see Fred and George staring at me with matching, shit-eating grins plastered on their faces.

_What do they want now?_ I wondered. They gestured to me, then again to the grounds behind them. I shook my head, chuckling a little.

“Alright!” I called to them, holding my hands up in surrender, “Just let me get my stuff together!” I wasn’t sure they’d heard me, but they seemed to understand as I shoved my things back in my bag, corking the ink and heading out into the hall again, leaving the quill and ruined parchment behind me. A few minutes later, they wrapped their arms around my shoulders as I walked out the front door.

“‘Bout time you showed!” George joked, ruffling my hair, “We were beginning to wonder if you liked your new housemates better than us!”

“But that would be ridiculous, right George?”

“Absolutely, Fred.” I rolled my eyes, laughing.

“Oh please,” I said, patting both of their cheeks, “I couldn’t possibly pick them over my favorite boys!” They lead me over to a tree by the bank of the lake, sitting the three of us down against the trunk. I set down my bag again and pulled out my parchment and quills again.

“Decided not to tie your tie again?” Fred asked. I furrowed my brows, then looked down; I had never tied my tie - it simply hung loosely from my neck. _Oops._

“McGonagall’s not going to like _that_ ,” George drawled. I huffed, popping my collar and taking hold of the silky fabric.

“M’surprised she didn’t call me out on it earlier,” I muttered, attempting to tie the glorified noose, only succeeding to wrinkle the tie and have the lousy knot pull on my hair that was caught inside, “Why do we even _wear_ these stupid things?!” I growled in frustration, practically ripping hair out as I forced the tie over my head and threw it at George, who was laughing.

“You mean you didn’t have to wear one back in America?” Fred asked, also laughing.

“No, I didn’t!” I said, pulling a hair band from my wrist and twisting my pink curls into a messy bun on the top of my head, “And I don’t see the point in wearing one here, either!” I huffed, watching as George wrapped the tie around his own neck and tied it before loosening the knot and removing the tie. He tossed it back to me; I caught it in hand and stared at the knot for a moment before turning to look at him.

“You realize I’m never going to untie this, right?” He laughed. I put the tie around my neck, tightening it just enough to fit right without choking me before lowering my collar once more. I turned back to parchment, using a notebook to bare down on as picked up a quill and tried to write again.

“Why are using so much ink?” Fred asked, watching me dip my quill into the inkwell multiple times. I stopped and stared at the tip of the quill, which was now dripping black ink back into the pot.

“How much am I _supposed_ to use?” I whispered. They laughed at me, taking the quill and parchment from my hands as I sat, frozen in my confusion. They stared at the parchment I had been writing on, holding it up at odd angles as they attempted to decipher my blotted chicken-scratch.

“Wow, and we thought our handwriting was bad,” they spoke together. I glared at them and snatched the parchment back from their fingers.

“My _handwriting_ is fine, thank you!” I said, “I just can’t write with a quill. I’m trying to get it down well enough that I can take semi-legible notes before Potions class on Wednesday - I _don’t_ want Professor Snape calling me out on it.” The twins shared a quick glance, before Fred wiped the excess ink off my quill on his robes and handed it back to me.

“Try dipping it only once,” he said, helping me dip it in the pot, “Twice if you need it, but no more than that.” I watched him for a moment, then carefully wrote something on the page. It wasn’t perfect - there were still some spots where the ink dripped, and it didn’t dry as quick as I’d hoped - but for once, it was at least a little bit readable.

“Hey, I did it!” I said, smiling at the twins sitting on either side of me. They just shrugged, with matching smug smiles on their faces.

“Well of _course_ you did.”

“You had _our_ help, after all.” I ignored their comments in favor of writing some more, copying down my notes from earlier much neater than my attempt back in the common room.

“Why are you still writing?” Fred asked, him and George leaning over to block my view of the page, “Breaks are meant to _relax_ , not study!” I rolled my eyes, pushing their heads out of my line of sight.

“It’s a wonder I’ve managed to get _anything_ one with you two around,” I muttered, but smiled at them as I put the parchment aside to simply enjoy the sunlight with them.

_At this rate, it’ll be_ July _again before I get any work done!_

* * *

After break, I walked back inside with Fred and George to meet up with Willow before heading to Charms class. It wasn’t terribly exciting - just a revision over the levitation charm. I was nervous, however, as I hadn’t actually had the opportunity to practice the spell - or any other, for that matter - and I had no idea if I’d even be able to do it. Luckily, I wasn’t the only one who seemed to be having problems, and Professor Flitwick was exceptionally patient, so I managed to make my book float in the air after only a few tries.

It wasn’t until later that night, after dinner, that I remembered my dream from the night before. That, combined with Trelawney’s prediction for me, kept me up almost half the night, worrying about Ginny and the Chamber. _I can’t let Ginny open the Chamber_ , I thought, turning over on my side, _I’ve got to find a way to get that diary away from her! I won’t let what happened in the book take place, not so long as I can do something about it!_

That thought stuck with me for the rest of the week, as I tried to think of how to put my plan into action. Of course, it was difficult to juggle my plan and my work once classes really got started.

History of Magic, I realized, would have been a fascinating subject… if it were only taught by _anybody_ else besides Professor Binns. I had known he’d be a ghost, and I’d known he’d be dull, but nothing could have prepared me for the snoozefest that came of his lessons. By the end of it, I was not only surprised I was still awake, but that I had managed to copy down any notes at all.

_Maybe I could teach it someday_ , I thought, _and make it easier to stay awake through…_

Ancient Runes had been very similar to History of Magic, aside from boring teachers. Professor Babbling was far from boring, though her name was a bit _too_ accurate - she would sometimes go off on rants related to the history and backgrounds of some of the symbols we discussed through the lecture. I was the only Hufflepuff in our year in the course - most of the student were Ravenclaws - but I was seated next to the only Gryffindor in the class, Katie Bell, and worked with her for most of the lesson.

Herbology wasn’t too much to brag about, either. With the second years working on the Mandrakes in Greenhouse 3, we mostly worked with Puffapods in Greenhouse 2. It was fairly difficult, though, as the beans produced by the seed pods bloomed whenever coming into contact with a solid object; I learned this the hard way, after accidentally knocking a few into Willow’s hair, and earning both her and Professor Sprout’s disapproval.

Potions, however, wasn’t nearly as bad as I had envisioned - though, that might have been because I wasn’t Harry Potter. To start off, Professor Snape had most of the class hand in their summer assignments (of which, I was exempted for not being present when the essay was assigned), before jumping right into brewing the Shrinking Solution. I sat with Max as we brewed, as Tammy and Willow both seemed to completely at a loss for what to do. I worked with the ingredients as best as I could - though, to be honest, it reminded me too much of Chemistry class to risk doing otherwise - and by the end of class, my potion had turned a lime-green color and earning our house 10 points.

And Astronomy wasn’t so bad, either… that is, until we had to stay in the Astronomy tower until midnight. We had a lecture early in the day discussing some of the different constellations and their histories, both magical and muggle, but I could barely recall the name of the star in our own solar system after we got out there that night; being outside in that dark, and that cold, made me more homesick for the temperamental Georgian weather than I’d ever thought I’d be.

Defense Against the Dark Arts, however, _had_ to be worst. We had the class a few days after the second years, though it seemed Lockhart was _still_ a little on edge after the Cornish Pixie incident. Nevertheless, he began the class with a charming smile (a smile, which, I’m ashamed to say, made me swoon a little) and passed out the same quiz he had given to everybody else. I wrote down the answers I remembered being mentioned in Rowling’s book, but when I hit a question I didn’t recognize, I either doodled a lame picture off to the side or wrote down a somewhat-clever remark.

We began discussing boggarts after that, though he seemed less inclined to actually bringing one in, and instead told us how to get rid of a boggart, as he “detailed immensely in his best-selling book, _Gilderoy Lockhart’s Guide to Household Pests_ \- which is available for mail-order from Flourish and Blotts for 3 Galleons.” One of the Ravenclaw girls in our class - Marietta, I believe - asked what Lockhart’s boggart transformed into. He smiled at her, giving a wink as he said, “Myself,” though I nearly scoffed out loud as I watched carefully as his eyes flashed briefly with fear as he glanced over at the cage the pixies had once been held in.

And of course, between all of these, I spent most of my evenings out on the grounds with either the twins or Tammy, practicing for Quidditch tryouts. It was mostly just my flying around while they threw golf balls or rocks at me to knock away, but Tammy spent most of the time out there correcting my form and also teaching me the rules of the game (including discussing all 700 types of fouls, _in detail_ ).

It wasn’t until late Friday, just after dinner, that I really saw a chance to put my plan into action.

I sat with Fred and George at the Gryffindor table, listening to them discuss their own practice coming up with their house team the next day, and inviting me to come watch. I nodded along as I stuffed a forkful of meat and potatoes into my mouth. Through the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of red, and turned slightly to see Ginny on my right sitting by Percy. She looked a little green in the face as she quietly poked at her shepherd's pie and fiddled with a black book on the bench beside her.

_The diary!_ I watched carefully as she pushed her plate away and got up to leave, Percy getting up as well - he mentioned something about Madame Pomfrey - and leading her out the Great Hall. I watched them leave for a moment before looking down at her seat with surprise - _she left the diary!_ I slid over to the side slightly, reaching out a little to grasp the book.

“So, you _are_ going to come watch tomorrow, right?” Fred asked, catching me off-guard. I turned back to him and George swiftly, using my free hand to pull the book behind my back.

“Sure, I’ll come,” I replied, fingering the leather cover beneath my fingers, “I’ll be there right after breakfast.” That seemed to satisfy them both, and they turned back to their meal. Moving quickly, I polished off what was left on my plate before hurrying out of the Great Hall, Tom Riddle’s diary hidden in the pocket inside my robes.

_Mission accomplished._


	11. Finders, Keepers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosie got a hold of something, and now she's got to do something about it.
> 
> But what about Quidditch? What are the Slytherins doing on the field?

**Chapter 11: Finders, Keepers...**

* * *

I stared down at the book in my hands, running my fingers over the leather cover as the clock tower struck 11; I had had to wait until after my dorm-mates had returned from dinner and fallen asleep before actually getting the chance to look over my stolen prize. I kept one of my bed curtains slightly open, listening carefully to Willow's snoring in case she or the others were to wake up. Frodo sat beside me on the pillow, staring unblinking at the decades-old diary as if it would suddenly try to move on its own and he could take up the chase. He growled at it.

" _Shh!_ " I hushed, scratching behind his ear a bit, "We can't wake the others!" His nostrils flared slightly, and he lifted his chin, as if to say "Don't tell me what to do". I rolled my eyes, but quickly turned my attention back to the diary.

It wasn't a particularly… _interesting_ looking diary. It was well-crafted, clearly, with a black-leather cover that had worn only slightly along the edges over time. The pages were thick - thicker than muggle paper, though still not as thick as a roll of parchment - and had yellowed severely with age. I flipped through the pages quickly, and scanned them as they passed; there was nothing written inside, not even splotch of ink anywhere within the book. Scanning the back, I ran my finger over the worn, golden name printed and fading on the back cover.

" _Surely, you didn't think I was going to keep my filthy Muggle father's name?"_ Tom Riddle's voice rang in my mind, the quote an echo of the movie I had seen over a million times. I placed the book back down in my lap, It seemed so ordinary… harmless, even.

 _That's exactly what makes it so dangerous,_ I thought. I shook the thought from my head and stood up, moving around the bed to where I had set up Frodo's things. I reached the basket and, lifting some of the folds of the blanket within, tucked the diary away and patted the blanket back in place until I could no longer tell the diary was hidden there. Frodo puffed up, still growling at the book he could no longer see. I shushed him again, quickly climbing back under the covers and pulling the curtains shut behind me, finally blocking out all other sounds in the room.

"I know you don't trust it, bud," I whispered, pulling him up to cuddle him, "I don't trust it either. But we've got to keep it safe; if we fail, then the basilisk could kill every muggleborn in the school." He quieted but remained tense, his thin-pupiled eyes fixated on the book hidden within the basket. I chose to ignore it and simply curled up under my own blankets, falling asleep to the thought of what would come next, now that the diary was in my possession…

* * *

I was up early the next morning, showering and getting dressed by the time the sun was beginning to rise. I tied the laces on my boots quickly and stood, slapping a hat on my head and pulling on my house robe as I left the dorm, wand tucked into my pocket. I slid through the tunnel, checking myself over once I'd landed to see not even a speck of dirt on my skirt or shoes, and made my way quickly towards the entrance hall. My own roommates hadn't even woken up by the time I'd left, and very few people were eating breakfast in the Great Hall when I went and grabbed some sausages and fried tomatoes wrapped in a napkin to eat on the way, so I was surprised to arrive at the front door of the castle right as Hermione and Ron made their way out onto the fog-covered lawn. I sped up, catching the door before it closed and running out to them.

"Hey, guys!" I called, waving. Hermione smiled brightly back, while Ron just yawned.

"Good morning, Rosie," Hermione said.

"G'morning…" Ron mumbled, rubbing his eye, "what're you doing up so early?"

"Fred and George invited me to watch their practice today," I said, walking along with them towards the quidditch pitch, "I figured, with how… _enthusiastic_ their captain is, I should get an early start."

"He's _somethin'_ , that's for sure," Ron grumbled. We continued with our talk as we reached the stands, taking a seat near the ground.

"...and he had Harry up at the crack of dawn for today's practice. It could be pouring down rain, with the whole team soaked through, and he'd _still_ have them practice!"

"He wants to win the quidditch cup at least once before he graduates, Ron," I eased, watching as the team began to emerge from what I assumed was the locker room.

"He's a nutter's, what he is," Ron mumbled, taking a bite of his toast as Harry made his way out of the locker room; "Aren't you finished yet?" he called.

"Haven't even started," Harry responded bitterly, looking at the food in Ron and Hermione's hands, "Wood's been teaching us new moves." I opened the napkin of food I brought, grabbing two of the sausages and holding them out to him.

"Well, you should have some breakfast," I said, "It's not much, but it's better than nothing." Harry smiled lightly, taking the sausages with a nod and shoving them into his mouth before mounting his broom and kicking off into the air. Fred and George followed suit, waving down to me from the air. Suddenly, I heard a clicking behind our seat, and looked back to see Colin Creevey with his camera, snapping pictures and calling out to Harry. I shook my head - _he just won't quit, will he?_ \- and turned back the pitch.

"Uh oh," Hermione said. Ron and I looked over at her.

"What is it?" I asked. She pointed towards the end of the pitch, where there stood a group of people in green robes with identical sleek, black broomsticks in hand.

"That can't be good," I whispered, and the three of us got up and started moving towards them. The Gryffindor team had clearly seen them as well, and flew down in front of the group before we made it down from the stands. Wood shot towards the front, shouting at the meaty, troll-like boy - Flint, I heard him called - at the front.

"What's the Slytherin team doing here, anyway?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing good, I imagine," Ron answered. We hopped down from the stands and ran over towards the others. The closer we got, the more we could make out, and about halfway across the field I could make out a head of slick, white-blond hair in the mass of Slytherin team members. _Oh great, forgot about this..._

"Oh look, a field invasion," Flint said as we neared. We ran right up to Harry and the others, me moving to stand between Fred and George.

"What's happening? Why aren't you playing?" Ron asked, "And what's _he_ doing here?" He glowered at Malfoy, who was wearing the same robes as the other Slytherins - quidditch robes.

" _I'm_ the new Slytherin seeker," he answered, a smug grin on his face, "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought for our team." He moved the broom out in front, giving Ron a good look at it; it was shiny, black wood, with well-shaped black bristles at the end that looked as though they were stained green at the very bottom. Fred's hand tightened into a fist at my side, and I grabbed it, squeezing as I glared at the superior expression Malfoy had on his face.

"Good, aren't they?" he continued, "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them." The Slytherin team laughed hard at that. I felt George begin to tense on my other side, and placed a hand on his arm. _He's usually the calm one,_ I thought, _This_ really _isn't going well…_ Hermione humphed, crossing her arms across her chest.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to _buy_ their way in," she said, " _They_ got in on pure talent." Malfoy flinched, and he glared back Hermione.

"No one asked _your_ opinion," he sneered, "you filthy little _mudblood_." All hell broke loose. I let go of the twins, watching as they attempted to jump at Malfoy who was cowering behind Flint. The Gryffindor girls were furious, yelling in outrage at him.

Ron was the worst, however; he pulled out his wand, spellotape beginning to unravel around the broken part, and pointed it under Flint's arm at the blond ferret boy. He didn't say anything, just thrashed his wand in Malfoy's direction. A memory flashed through my mind, and I rushed forward, hand outstretched.

"Ron, don't!"

 _BANG!_ A sickly green light shot out of the wrong end of his wand, knocking him back several feet onto the grass. We all ran up to him, Harry and Hermione kneeling on either side of him.

"Ron! Ron, are you alright?!" Hermione cried. Ron pushed himself to sitting, and tried to speak but no words came out; instead, he belched loudly, and a large slug fell from his mouth into a puddle in his lap. I choked back down my breakfast at the sight, feeling ill myself as the creature squirmed around in the bile and slime pooled on Ron's lap.

The Slytherins were in hysterics, leaning on one another and slapping their knees as they laughed at the youngest Weasley boy. I felt my rage swelling, and I turned back to glare murderously at Malfoy as the others tried to help Ron as best they could without touching him.

"Let's get him to Hagrid's," Harry suggested behind me, "it's closest." They began shuffling behind me, and I knew he and Hermione were carrying Ron back to Hagrid's hut. I felt the others gather around near me, Fred and George again on each side. The Slytherins kept laughing, not seeming to notice that the cause of their laughter had left.

"Weasley's not any better with a broken wand than he is a whole one!" Malfoy guffawed, "He'd probably be better off not using one at all!"

"At least he's better with a wand than you are with a broom," I said, "It takes someone truly _pathetic_ to warrant their dad bailing them out with a bribe." The laughter died down, and Malfoy moved a step forward, eyes cold but still smirking.

"And what would you know about that, _yank_?" he said, smug, "You American _mutts_ don't-" I didn't let him finish; I rushed forward, wand in hand and pointed it at him. He shrieked and hid behind Flint again.

"I figured as much," I said, "You can dish it out, but you can't take it yourself, can you?" Flint moved further in front of Malfoy, his yellow, crooked teeth pulled into a sneer.

"Back off," he whispered, his breath rank in my face, " _mudblood bitch._ " I heard the others start moving forward, but before they reached me, I kicked out and hit Flint square between the legs. He yowled in pain, holding himself as his knees buckled and he went down face-first in the grass. Malfoy screeched again and pulled two more of his teammates forward to shield him. I leaned down carefully, looking Flint dead in the eye with the most harsh, cold look I was capable of.

" _Never_ call me that again." I whispered, then turned around and walked back to the castle.


	12. Big Snobs and Broomsticks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time's come for the Hufflepuff Quidditch tryouts! Rosie's been practicing, but has it been enough? Will she make the team?

**Chapter 12: Big Snobs and Broomsticks**

* * *

I stormed, still fuming, into the Entrance Hall; a couple of first years, just leaving breakfast, moved out of my way quickly, fear in their eyes.

 _Stupid Malfoy,_ I thought, _Stupid Flint. Ruining a perfectly good morning..._ I had barely made it more than a few steps inside when I felt a presence on either side of me, steering me towards an alcove hidden behind one of the many stairwells.

"That was bloody brilliant!" George whispered to me, he and his twin grinning madly at me. I shrugged.

"Someone had to do it," I said, some of the tenseness leaving me and I smiled up at them, "Besides, it felt... _really_ good!"

"Looked good, too!" Fred said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as George ruffled my hair under my hat. I pushed them aside, moving out of the alcove and around the stairs towards the direction of the Hufflepuff common room.

"Where're you going?" George asked, him and Fred catching up to me quickly; I noticed they hadn't changed out of their quidditch robes yet.

"Grabbing my broom, because... _well_ ," I sighed, "Since _your_ practice got cancelled, I figured I could maybe borrow you both and keep practicing for tryouts tomorrow… If you guys don't mind, that is." They smiled broadly at this, and each grabbed my arm and began leading me down the stairs to the basement.

* * *

"What if I'm not ready?"

"Trust me, you're ready, now let's go!" Tammy dragged me from the locker room on the pitch, bringing me towards the small crowd of hopeful Hufflepuffs also trying out for the team. Each of us wore a jersey shirt of some shade of yellow and leather padding, with numbers written on parchment pinned to our backs. Tammy pulled me towards the front, turning me around and pinning a piece of parchment with the number 22 written on it to my back. My eyes scanned the stadium as she worked, looking across the empty stands for a familiar face.

"Where's Willow?" I asked, "I thought she was going to come watch?" Tammy shook her head.

"No idea," she said, "Maybe she's caught ill? Flu's starting to go around - maybe she's gone for a Pepperup potion?" She didn't sound too worried, so I shrugged and watched her walk over to the rest of the official team, who were wearing their team robes. I could see Max and Rickett arguing over something near the back of their group, with a handsome blond boy smiling and shaking his head at them. Another blond boy stood near Tammy and a tall brunette, chatting quietly amongst themselves. Then the brunette girl cut off the conversation and turned to us, her ponytail swishing add her thin, dark eyes scanned the crowd.

"All right!" she called, quieting everyone and calling attention to the front, "We're going to separate you all into groups! Those trying out for Truman's old spot as keeper, come stand over by Applebee and Stebbins." She gestured to Tammy and the other boy, who had moved over farther to the left of the field. I, along with at least 11 or 12 others, moved to stand over by them; only about 6 stayed where they were.

"Good," the brunette continued, "Now for the rest of–Smith!" Everyone turned to see short blond boy standing in the crowd, smug grin on his face and expensive, new broom in hand. "First years aren't allowed to try out! Get back to the castle!" Smith glowered at her.

"Potter got to join the Gryffindor team his first year!" he argued, stomping his foot, "Tell me, Macavoy, what makes _him_ so special?"

"Professor McGonagall made an exception for him because of his skill as a seeker," the blond boy by Max responded calmly, "It was a special case, and she had the support and agreement of the headmaster and the other heads of house."

"Precisely," the brunette - Macavoy - continued, " _You_ , however, Smith, don't even have the support of Professor Sprout, let alone anyone else. Now, I suggest you leave, before I decide to get Sprout to keep you from trying out _next_ year, as well." Zacharias snorted but complied, tearing the number off his shirt and stomping into the grass before turning on his heel and marching back to the castle.

"As I was saying, the rest of you will be trying out for alternate," Macavoy said, directing them toward Max and the others, "If anyone on the team gets injured, we'll need an alternate to fill in for them on the team."

Everything moved pretty quickly after that. Max and Rickett (Anthony, I learned his first named was) worked with Cedric (the handsome blond that I should've recognized sooner, but didn't) to do reserve-position tryouts, while Heidi Macavoy - the team captain - worked with Tammy and Jason Stebbins - the third chaser - to begin testing the rest of us for keeper. We moved over towards one set of goal-posts, and flew up one by one. Each person had to knock the quaffle away from the goals as many times as possible out of the six times they threw it towards them. It didn't look very easy - Stebbins may have been an easy shot to knock down, but Macavoy and Tammy were fast, throwing the ball almost too quick to see. Nearly half of the group missed more than they knocked away. But, I noticed something else.

 _There's a pattern_ , I thought. They seemed to pass the ball at least twice before trying to score each round, and like clockwork, each one had their own hoop that they attempted to throw towards - Macavoy on the right, Stebbins the left, and Tammy in the middle. I watched this continue, memorizing their movements.

Finally, it was my turn.

I kicked off the ground and flew up, hovering between the goals as I faced Macavoy.

"Remember," she said, "knock as many away as you can." I nodded, and she circled back around to the other two. Tammy had the quaffle, weaving around the pitch with it under her arm before tossing it to Macavoy, who quickly tossed it to Stebbins. Stebbins then rushed forward and chucked the ball towards the left post. _As predicted…_ I swerved over and knocked the ball away with the back of my arm. Tammy swooped under and caught it, then tossed it to Stebbins again as they reset.

Three more tries, and three more balls I knocked out - two more from Stebbins on the left, and one from Tammy in the middle. Macavoy began rushing towards me next, quaffle in hand; it had already been passed once, so I watched carefully for it to be passed again. Tammy flew in next to her, and grabbed the ball, rushing past her. I focused in, hovering in front of the center ring. Tammy's hand slipped, and she dropped– _Wait!_

The ball wasn't in her hands. She had never taken it. Macavoy rushed up behind her on the right, and tossed the ball at the left hoop. I jerked to the side, just barely managing to kick the ball aside before it went through.

"Don't get complacent!" Macavoy yelled, "Patterns are used to trick you! Focus on where the ball _is_ , not where it _should_ be!" I shook my head - feeling dumb for falling for the ploy - and focused my attention on the ball again, catching it as Stebbins tried to throw it through the right hoop.

"Excellent. Next!" I touched back down next to the rest of the group. I stood near the back now, barely paying attention as the last few were tested. Finally, we were released with the promise that the team posting would be up by breakfast on Monday, and we all headed back to the locker room to change.

"Nicely done, McIntosh!" a boy with strawberry-blond hair said, clapping me on the shoulder. I shrugged it off.

"I didn't do that well…" I said. _I couldn't even figure out that the pattern was a trick!_ He shook his head.

"You kiddin'? _You're_ the only one who blocked all six shots! It was amazing!" I slowed to a stop, thinking over his words.

 _Me? I got all six shots?_ "But how? I could've sworn…"

"Munslow and Fleet got five each, but Macavoy's too fast for them," he continued, "I'd say you've got a damn good shot at making the team!" I looked back up at him, smiling as I met his blue-gray eyes.

"Thanks," I said, "I'm Rosie, by the way." I held out my hand, and he shook it.

"We all know that," he laughed, "You aren't exactly 'blending in', you know." He gestured to my hair. "I'm Ernie, Ernie Macmillan."

"Nice to meet you. See you around!" I waved at him, and then headed to the lockers. After changing and fixing my hair again, I went up to the castle, meeting up with Max and Cedric outside the entrance.

"Hey!" Max called, pulling my under her arm and mussing my hair, "Great job out there! You were amazing!" I pushed her off, laughing.

"Thanks," I said to her, then turned to Cedric, "Hi, I'm Rosie." He nodded, shaking my hand.

"Cedric," he answered, "Good to meet you."

"You as well." Max groaned and punched my shoulder, just hard enough to get my attention.

"Heidi's just told us!" she said, "You made the team!" I gasped.

"No way!" I cried, "Seriously?" Cedric nodded.

"Completely serious," he said, "You were the only one to block every shot. It wasn't a very difficult decision." I squealed, hugging Max fiercely around the middle. She laughed and shoved me back, but I was too excited to care.

"I've gotta go," I said, brushing past them and inside the castle, "See you later!" I started running up the stairs, headed towards where I figured the Gryffindor common room was.

 _I've got to tell Fred and George!_ I ran up to the fifth floor, and almost hopped onto the next staircase when I saw the twins and Lee, walking out of one of the rooms laughing. I ran towards them, my grin so big it hurt.

"Guys!" I called, grabbing their attention, "Guys!"

"Hey, Rosie, how'd it go?" George asked. I ran up and threw my arms around his shoulders.

"I did it!" I said, "I made the team!" He laughed and hugged me back, lifting me up off the ground for a moment.

"That's awesome, Rosie!" He said as he put me back down. Lee threw an arm over my shoulder and pulled my into a half-hug.

"Way to go, Rosie!" Fred shook his head, a smirk on his face.

"Don't expect us to go _easy_ on you," he said slyly, "Rough game, quidditch. _Anything_ can happen…" I pulled away from the others, hands on my hips as I stared up at Fred with a smirk of my own.

"Is that a challenge, _Weasley_?" I asked. He inched closer.

"No, McIntosh─a _promise_." We stared down for a moment, hardly blinking, before I dissolved into giggles; I was too excited to even _pretend_ to be serious, apparently. He eased up, too, smiling brightly before picking me up and spinning me around.

"We're proud of you, Rosie-Posie," he said. I smiled, burying my face in his shoulder for a moment.

Then shooting back up instantly, coughing.

"You're _covered_ in gunpowder!" I exclaimed, pushing off him and back to my feet; I wiped my hand across my nose, covering it in the black powder. All three of them started laughing. "What the _hell_ have you been up to while I was gone?!"

"We've set up a prank outside the Prefects' bathroom," George said, taking my arm and pulling me down the hall, "Come on, you've got to see!" I walked along with them, wiping the black off my face with my sweater sleeve as we walked. They began explaining some details of the prank, but I couldn't entirely focus, still too hyped.

 _I can't believe it,_ I thought, _I made the Hufflepuff quidditch team!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took forever to post chapters 11 and 12 on this site, but I finally remembered! I'm working on chapter 13 as I post this, and I should (hopefully) have it done by tonight!


	13. Chapter 13: Ignorance is Bliss, Negligence is Dangerous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogsmeade weekend is upon us! And Halloween is just around the corner! How well is Rosie doing at keeping the diary hidden? What'll happen if the Chamber never opens?

**Chapter 13: Ignorance is Bliss, Negligence is Dangerous**

* * *

A few weeks passed, and October had arrived. Tammy was right about the flu ─ soon after tryouts, many of the students started feeling sick, and by the second week of October, more than half of the students and staff had been to see Madame Pomfrey for a Pepperup potion to make it through the day.

But of course, I had bigger problems than a stuffy nose.. Well, I had that, too.

Willow had been acting really strangely since I made the quidditch team. I tried asking her countless times what she was upset about, but never got a complete answer ─ either she would be interrupted by other students or teachers speaking to us, or she would clam up about halfway through a crude explanation. I figured she was probably still a little upset about my trying out at all (as well as perhaps her still unexplained dislike of Fred and George), but was trying not to outright say as much, so after about a week, I simply decided to give her some space.

The diary was another issue. I couldn't bring it out during the daytime for fear of other students seeing it, and by the time night rolled around ─ whether because of school or quidditch practice ─ I was usually too exhausted to think clearly enough to deal with it. I wasn't even sure why I was so tired, I had never been like this at school back home; my best guess was that I hadn't cared even half as much about school back in America as I do about Hogwarts, and I must be putting in extra effort to be at the level I needed to be on par with.

Added stress and exhaustion aside, however, I wouldn't have been able to do much about the book anyway; Frodo had taken a standing vigil over it's hiding place any time anyone entered the room. He guarded the horcrux in his basket like a dragon guarded its eggs, and hissed and swiped at anyone who came too close.

That might be another reason for Willow's reclusiveness, as she clearly had more than few scratch marks on her hands lately.

I still wasn't sure if I should speak to anyone about it, either. I mean, on the one hand, lives were on the line, and that combined with my knowledge should be more than enough proof for Dumbledore for him to take care of it… But on the other hand, that still left the basilisk.

I did my research ─ there have been no known sightings of _any_ basilisk since Shakespearean times, and the Ministry of Magic began enforcing the laws banning basilisk breeding nearly two centuries before that. So there wouldn't be anyone around today capable of fighting the stupid thing.

_Then again, the book_ did _say a rooster's crow could kill it…_ I thought to myself as I scooped some potatoes onto my plate one rainy afternoon (it had begun raining nearly a week ago, and it still hadn't let up; Heidi hadn't even been able to schedule proper team practices for us yet, and our first match was only a month away). _If someone could get a hold of a rooster long enough to kill the basilisk… But then, what about the sword?_ If the basilisk was killed without the Sword of Gryffindor, then how would Harry and the others manage to destroy all of the horcruxes in the next few years?

_SMACK!_ I snapped my head up, looking right into Max's grinning face, her spoon now resting in a pile of beans and potatoes on my plate.

"What was _that_ for?!" I screeched, wiping some of the food from my cheeks. She shrugged.

" _You_ were the one not paying attention," Max replied, setting her utensil back down, "I was merely remedying this."

"You were out of it for a while, Rosie," Tammy said hesitantly, pushing some vegetables around on her plate, "What were you thinking so hard about?" I froze, trying to think of a good excuse.

"I'm just… worried about Willow, that's all…" I said finally. We all looked further down the table, where Willow had begun sitting with some of the older students after tryouts. She was staring blankly into her lunch, her face a few shades paler than I was used to seeing, and she didn't seem to be paying any attention to any of the conversations going on around her.

"She is acting rather out of sorts, isn't she?" Tammy said, turning back to her food.

"You don't think she's still upset with me about tryouts, is she?" I whispered, twirling a strand of pink hair around my finger.

"No! No no no no no!" she responded immediately, then paused. "Well…"

"It's not your fault, Ro," Max said through a mouthful of roast beef, "She'll get over being a total prat soon enough, you'll see." She wiped the sauce off her chin with her sleeve, "Really, we should be focusing more on the first Hogsmeade weekend."

_That's right!_ "I forgot all about that!" I exclaimed, "I still haven't gotten my permission slip signed!"

"You haven't?!" Tammy asked, stunned.

"How could you have forgotten this?!" Max added, slamming down her fork and splattering the three of us with gravy. I wiped it off with my napkin.

"Well, I can't exactly send it to my _parents_ all the way in Georgia, can I?" I said, exasperated.

"Why can't you?" I hesitated. They couldn't find out.

"...We're not exactly speaking at the moment." I said finally. They paused for a moment, then nodded.

"Well, what about the Weasleys?" Max asked, "Couldn't you ask them to sign it?"

"I'm not sure…" At that moment, a flock of owls began flying into the Great Hall, "Maybe I can send a letter to them with Errol after mail's done." I watched the owls fly in droves around the hall, all landing calmly next to their student and passing the mail from their beaks. It was always enchanting to see, to follow the different colored and patterned feathers glide around the room each day. I kept my eyes out over Gryffindor's table for large grey owl, _If I can just spot him before─_

**SPLAT!** Suddenly, something landed hard in the bowl of beans on our table, splattering myself, Tammy, and Max with the juices. People around us laughed, and I nearly began to join them as a gray feather floated softly onto my plate.

"Well _that_ was a bit convenient," Tammy remarked, grabbing a napkin and wiping herself clean.

"A bit _too_ convenient, you ask me," Max added. I ignored them both, instead grabbing the ─ now unconscious ─ bird from the bowl, and taking the pack of letters from his beak. Sifting through them, I found one addressed to me. Cradling poor Errol in my lap, I set the others aside and opened my letter.

_**Dear Rosie,** _

_**Sorry for the lateness. Molly and I've been planning to write for a while now, but with Ron's incident with the car and the raids, neither of us has gotten the chance.** _

_**Your head of house sent us your permission form for the Hogsmeade trips. Not used to receiving word from Sprout. Usually it's McGonagall writing to us about whatever prank the twins have set off this week. Quite refreshing, I'll admit.** _

_**Anyways, here's you form. We've signed it for you, I hope you don't mind. If you need anything, don't hesitate to write us.** _

_**Give Ginny and the boys our regards!** _

_**Arthur Weasley** _

I sat, stunned, then looked quickly inside the envelope to see a folded piece of parchment, which unfolded to reveal Molly Weasley's signature on my permission form.

"You'd think the woman were psychic…" I whispered, shaking my head with a smile on my face. I tucked the folded pieces of parchment into my robe pocket before picking Errol back up and standing. "Best to return him before he gets too comfortable, otherwise we'll be eating owl feathers with breakfast for the rest of the year." Careful not to drop him on the way, I made my way to the Gryffindor table, gently plopping Errol into Ron's unsuspecting lap. He looked up at me, brows furrowed and food stuffed in his face.

"Oi!" he garbled, bits of potato flying from his mouth. I grimaced.

"Oi yourself, and please don't talk with your mouth full," I said, "He made a mess over on our table, just thought I should return him to you. Your parents send their best, by the way." With that, I quickly turned and walked back over to our table, not waiting for a response. The conversation turned back to Hogsmeade, and this time I was quick to join in. My mind drifted away from its previous thought processes; after all, so long as I had the diary, the Chamber couldn't be opened.

_And no one gets hurt if the Chamber stays closed. Why worry over something that doesn't have to happen, anyway?_

October continued to be mostly uneventful. _Mostly_. Fred and George, of course, being the exception.

The boys had begun taking any free time I seemed to have to either drag me along with one of their pranks, or to work on homework (meaning, of course, trick me into goofing off with them while I tried to work), or sometimes just to talk about the Hogsmeade and all the places I should visit: Zonko's, the Three Broomsticks, Honeydukes, and tons of other places to either enjoy or avoid.

Places that I would visit much sooner than I had thought. Just a week before Halloween, every student in third year and above gathered just outside the entrance of the castle, bundled up in warm clothes and ready to embark towards the first Hogsmeade weekend of the school year. Most of the older students had already gone on ahead, but myself and the other third years waited as McGonagall collected all of our permission forms and sent us on our way.

The second my form was in her hands, Fred and George each scooped an arm under mine and began hauling me away, walking me down the path into the snow-covered village. I pulled my arms out of their grasp and wrapped them around me, shivering.

"How do you people stand this weather all the time?" I asked, tucking my fingers under my arms to try and warm them.

"What, you never seen snow before?" George asked, a teasing smile on his face. I glowered at him.

"Not really, no," I said, "Most we ever get is ice and slush, which is a _lot_ harder to maneuver in, by the way; one little ice storm, and the entire _state_ has to shut down." I saw them look at each other out of the corner of my eye, but kept facing the path as we walked closer. I could almost see the snow-covered village ahead.

"But, Rosie-Posie," Fred drawled, "isn't Ilvermorny up in the mountains, up north?" I froze.

"You tellin' us it doesn't _snow_ up in the mountains at your school?" George added. They both turned and looked at me, wearing unreadable expressions save the mischievous glint in their eyes.

_Shit_. My hands clenched into fists under my arms. I needed to say something, quick.

"I'm _saying_ ," I drew out, glaring at the two as we continued to walk, "that it doesn't snow in _Georgia_ , where I'm from! And since I'm only there during the summer, it's almost impossible to get a hold of proper winter wear for during the year. Of _course_ it snows at Ilvermorny, any twit would know that; doesn't mean I spend any time _outside_ while it is!" I huffed, pushing further ahead.

_Well, at least it wasn't a_ total _lie…_ I thought, _I should ask Dumbledore more about my "old school", clearly I'm not hiding the truth well enough…_

"Aw, c'mon Rosie, don't get your knickers in a twist!" Fred laughed, he and George catching up to me with ease.

"Yeah, we were just askin' ya a question!" I rolled my eyes, but let them wrap their arms around my shoulders as we finally made it to the village. It wasn't too dissimilar from the movies, actually; the buildings seemed to all be rather small and made of dark wood, and all were covered in a thick blanket of snow. I stared in awe for a moment before shivering again, moving quickly to the first shop the twins dragged me to.

Most of our morning was spent moving from store to store, with me taking a few minutes to defrost in between, and either doing some light shopping or making note of things to purchase for Christmas presents. I saw a couple of really interesting things, including some really interesting looking books at the book shop, and managed to grab only a few instead of an entire armful (not at all because the boys were anxious to be _anywhere_ else). I also stopped by Gladrags and picked up a few sweaters, a pair of warm boots, and a few magical pairs of thick socks ─ including one that sang when you first put them on. I also had the thought to step into Scrivenger's ─ I had gotten significantly better at writing with a quill, and decided to reward myself ─ and bought a few nice, new quills and a pot of metallic ink.

After all of that, the boys finally managed to drag me into Zonko's, and I had to admit it was impressive. We spent most of our time between shopping elsewhere and getting lunch just gaping at the sheer incredibility lining the numerous shelves of the joke shop. I, for the most part, just watched Fred and George run around, big bright smiles on their faces, and try out all the new little toys available.

_Just imagine what they'll be like when they've got their_ own _store…_ I thought to myself, as they rang up their purchases and led the way towards the Three Broomsticks. Fred and I grabbed a booth and sat down as George met up with Lee at the counter and ordered our lunch.

" _So_ , what'cha think?" Fred asked me, nudging my elbow with his own. I smiled.

"Everything you said, and more," I replied, turning over my new copy of _Saucy Tricks for Tricky Sorts_ , "This certainly makes Christmas shopping a bit easier, though."

"Christmas shopping?" George asked as he came back, him and Lee sitting opposite me and Fred, "Who're you planning on shopping for?"

"Well, I definitely wanna get something for your parents," I said quietly, looking down at my hands, "I mean, after everything they've done for me, it's really the least I can do."

"You know they don't mind that, Rose," George said softly. I shrugged.

"I know, but I still want to thank them somehow. They've been so kind to me, and I just want to show them how grateful I am…" I didn't look up in the silence, thinking about how much I owed to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. From the corner of my eye, I saw Fred give me a tender smile, patting me on the shoulder before changing the subject to new prank ideas.

_And I've still got to make sure nothing happens to Ginny…_ I thought, nodding along with their enthusiastic planning, _Sure would be one hell of a way to thank them if she gets taken into the Chamber…_

We finished up our lunch (including hot butterbeer, which I held in my hands and continued to drink as we left the pub and made our way to Honeydukes in order to keep my hands from freezing), and did a bit more shopping before heading back in time for the twins to head to Quidditch practice. By the time I made it back to the school, my bag was full to bursting with new books, quills, ink, clothes, and now an excessive amount of candy and some kind of pumpkin-flavored soda.

I left the boys at the entrance hall and managed to carefully not drop anything as I made my way into the Hufflepuff common room, and walked into my dorm. No one else had gotten back yet, so it was just me and Frodo in the room alone. I quickly stored all of my new things, shifting my robes to one side and placing the drinks and candy on top of my trunk once I finished, and grabbed my notebook and pen before walking over to the cat's basket. Frodo, looked up at me, growling slightly.

"Oh hush, you," I said, getting comfortable on my bed, "I'm just checking it, honest." I carefully lifted the cat (he couldn't exactly be called a kitten anymore, not with as fat as he was getting) off the basket, placing him in my lap as I reached under the blankets and grabbed a hold of the diary. Checking quickly to make sure I was alone, I lifted the diary from its hiding place and held it carefully in my grasp.

It looked the same as it had every other time I checked it; same worn cover, same empty, yellowed pages, same uneasy feeling in my gut as I looked closer at the pages.

_Nothing to worry about,_ I thought to myself, hiding it back in its previous place, _No one else can find it so long as I have it. And he can't get me if I never write in it._ I scratched Frodo behind his folded ears as he leapt back onto his perch atop the basket, then turned back to my notes.

_Nothing to worry about…_

That's what I told myself each day leading up to the Halloween feast. By the time the feast was about to start, I had mantra down so well I rarely even needed to think about it. I walked up to the Great Hall from the common room with the other Hufflepuffs, and quickly found myself struck awe by the sight of the hall. The candles floating around the hall had been turned a festive black, and flaming streamers floated over the rafters just below the enchanted ceiling. Live bats perched in various spots throughout the room, and lining the walls were some of the largest Jack-o-lanterns I'd ever seen, the biggest one being at least as tall as I was, sitting right behind Professor Dumbledore's chair.

I found my place at a random table with the twins and Lee, with Tammy and Max joining us after a moment. I took a quick look around; Willow was nowhere to be seen.

"Isn't Willow going to join us?" I asked Tammy. She shook her head.

"She said she wasn't feeling well," she replied, "Said something about going to Madame Pomfrey…" She then turned her attention to the food as it appeared before us. It was very similar to the feast we had that first night here, except tonight's menu included a great deal more pumpkin ─ including pumpkin bread loaves, pumpkin-corn soup, and even pumpkin-flavored potatoes.

Our little group stuffed our faces, laughing at the twins' jokes and enjoying the feast. Just as the last of the main course disappeared from the tables, a band of skeletons suddenly began playing at the front of the hall. They jammed out a tune to "rattle 'yer bones" to, as they said, as dessert began to appear before us: pumpkins full to burst of colored candies, trays of candy-coated and caramel apples, and pies and tarts and cakes all over the place. It was hard to eat so much after having such a filling dinner, but I managed to stuff at least a few slices of pumpkin pie down my throat, washing it down with a goblet or two of pumpkin fizz.

By the end of the feast, I was so tired and so full I had to lean on Fred to stay sitting upright. As we were dismissed from the hall, he and George looped their arms through mine and walked with me and the girls to the main floor and over to the staircase. As we approached the hall outside the staircases, we saw a huge crowd forming along one of the walls. My gut clenched.

_No..._

"What's going on?" Tammy asked, staring on her toes to see over people's heads. I pulled away from the twins and started shoving my way closer to the front. I stopped next to Cedric, blocked by two large Slytherin boys, and turned to him.

"What's happened?" He looked at me, confusion and horror hidden in his eyes.

"Not quite sure," he said, shifting over to let me get a look. I stepped in the space he left, and stood still, staring in horror at the scene before me. Harry Potter stood in a large puddle, Hermione and Ron on either side, facing an old, stiff cat hanging from the torch bracket. Above the body were large words, written in still-dripping blood, that read two simple sentences:

_**THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.  
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR ─**_ _**BEWARE.**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry it took so long to write this chapter! School's getting more and more busy as I get closer to finishing, so it'll be a while before I can write another chapter anytime soon, but I plan on at least starting the next chapter by Thanksgiving. Keep an eye out!!


	14. The Consequences of Complacency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosie finds out who wrote the message on the wall, and gets ready to investigate.

I couldn't breathe. The world around me swirled, the sound of chatter and shouting swimming in my ears. The red writing on the wall was the only clear thing in sight.

_This can't be happening! I thought, The diary! It's still in my room!_

"What's going on here?!" A body shouldered past me, knocking me backwards into a gaggle of gaping Ravenclaws. They shifted past me and I lost my balance, landing harshly on the ground. Cedric leaned down in front of me, taking my hand and helping lift me to my feet again.

"You alright, McIntosh?" he asked, concerned. I shook in front of him, not taking my eyes off the still-dripping warning.

"I-I…" I gulped, finally turning my eyes to his, "D-Does this happen a lot here?" I didn't wait for an answer, looking back over at the wall again. Mr. Filch had begun yelling at Harry, accusing him of his cat's terrible fate.

"..murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill _you_! I'll─"

" _Argus_!" The crowd opposite me dispersed, revealing Dumbledore as he strode into the hall. He made his way past the other students, a number of other teachers following behind him. I shifted back away from the front, moving backwards towards where I had left the twins. Fred caught me as I bumped into them, pulling me between the two of them and wrapping their arms around my shoulders.

"What's happened?"

"What'd you see?" They spoke together in hushed whispers, but I only shook my head, gripping Fred's free arm tightly.

"There's... _blood_ …" I whispered back, not having to pretend to be horrified, "on the wall…" From the corner of my eyes, I saw the twins exchange looks over my pink curls, before looking back at the crowd again. Dumbledore and some of the teachers began making their way out of the corridor again, with the Golden Trio in tow; the remaining professors began directing and escorting the other students back to their house dormitories.

"C'mon, Rose," George whispered, "Let's get you out of here."

* * *

I paced the floor of my dorm relentlessly; I had been to frozen to do much of anything before except let the twins drag me back down to the Hufflepuff common room entrance, where Max and Tammy had been waiting, but now I had too much energy to keep still any longer. Willow still hadn't returned, likely having chosen to stay the night in the hospital wing.

"McIntosh, quit it!" Max finally shouted, throwing a mustard-colored pillow in my direction. I felt the impact but ignored it, continuing to pace and mutter quietly to myself. Tammy looked over at me, frowning.

"She's right, Rosie, there's no point in getting worked up about it." I groaned, flopping inelegantly onto my bed. Frodo maintained carefully perched on his basket, eyes narrowed at nothing in particular.

"Have you guys read _anything_ about this 'chamber'?" I asked, tilting my head backwards to look over at my roommates.

_I can't have them knowing that I know,_ I thought, _but maybe they know something that might be useful…_

"Nope," Tammy shook her head. Max shrugged, leaning up to grab the curtains of her bed.

"It's just some stupid prank," Max whined, "Now go to sleep!" She shut the curtains, leaving Tammy and me alone. Tammy looked back over at me.

"I'm sure it's not anything to worry about, Rosie," she whispered, climbing under her own covers, "Besides, Professor Dumbledore is here. If there's anything happening at Hogwarts, he can handle it." I stayed put, turning my gaze back to the canopy above my head. Tammy sighed behind me, muttering a small "Good night," before shutting the curtains and heading to sleep. As soon as I was sure it was safe, I looked over at their beds. Both Max and Tammy's beds were hidden by the curtains, leaving only Willow's empty bed open to the room.

"Finally," I whispered, shooting up and moving quietly to Frodo's basket. He glared up at me, tired but vigilant. I shifted him into my lap, and took a shuddering breath.

_It's still there,_ I thought, shaking, _It hasn't moved. Just reach under the blanket and grab it…_ Grasping onto Frodo carefully, I reached an unsteady hand into the basket, grabbing onto the object hidden beneath the blanket. I closed my eyes, pulling it out and holding it in front of me for a moment before taking a peek.

It was Riddle's diary. I stared at the leather-bound book in my hands, shocked.

_It...It's still here?_ I thought, looking it over in my hands carefully, _It really didn't get taken or moved? It's really_ still _here?_ I blinked, turning the book over and over in my grasp; the gold letters on the back hadn't changed, the book didn't look new or different in any way. Even the pages were still blank and yellowed, as they had been before.

"But…" I wondered, careful even now not to make much sound, "...if it's still here…"

_Then who wrote the warning on the wall?_ Shaking my head, I put the book back under Frodo's blankets in the basket, placing him back on top of the pile before climbing into bed myself. I pulled the curtains almost closed, allowing myself to listen in on the echoing sounds of some of the other Hufflepuffs in the common room. I laid on my side facing away from the door, looking at the one, slightly open curtain in front of me and thought.

_I need to be more careful, otherwise people will start being petrified, instead of just Mrs. Norris…_ I closed my eyes and settled in, _I'll leave the diary there until I have a lead. Tomorrow's Sunday ─ I'll have all day to think about who could've done it… I just need t─_

**Ch-ck.** The door to the room clicked as someone turned the handle, opening the door carefully to keep it from squeaking. I shut my eyes, pretending desperately to be asleep.

_Who's sneaking in here at this hour?!_ I wondered. Near-silent footsteps moved through the room, passing Willow's bed beside me before stopping beside my bed, right where Frodo sat in his basket. The cat hissed.

"Hush!" said a voice, urgent. I heard a rustling sound, then an aggravated meow. "Ouch!" I stiffened, barely managing to hold back my gasp.

_I know that voice!_ I stayed stiff in my bed, hardly breathing as I heard Willow either released or escaped from the hospital wing ─ sneaking back into our dorm and trying to take the diary from Frodo's protective clutches. I was shocked, listening closely as she pulled the leather book from the cat basket, Frodo hissing and spitting at her, and apparently shuffled into her bed and shut the curtains, blocking all other sounds. I immediately sat up, pushing the curtain aside gently to see Frodo pacing and growling outside her bed curtains.

"Oh my god…." I whispered, feeling the weight of my actions collapsing onto my shoulders.

Willow had opened the Chamber of Secrets…. And it was all because of me...

* * *

I couldn't get any sleep that night. I sat in my bed, note journal in hand, and started making lists of everything that was supposed to happen in the books, as well as everything that I had changed so far, and by daylight I had filled out at least two pages with nothing but "It's all my fault" scribbled everywhere.

"Rise and shine, McIntosh!" Max called out, yanking my curtains away from my bed. I shrieked, hastily shoving the notebook and pen under the blankets as I glared up at the redhead. She didn't look in my direction ─ a godsend, really, as she didn't seem to notice my notebook ─ walking back over to Tammy's bed to wake her in a similar manner. "We've got practice today! Gotta be ready!" I groaned.

"That's not 'til _after_ lunch!" I said, falling back onto my pillow. _I forgot about practice…_ I thought to myself, my exhaustion finally catching up to me as I yawned, _Geez, I'm not gonna be able to block anything feeling like this!_

"During lunch, actually," Max said, "We need to get a full breakfast today, because we're miss at least half of lunch hour for a team meeting." This time Tammy moaned, burying her head back under the pillow. Another groan filled the room, striking the three of us quiet as Willow's bed curtains pulled back and she stepped out into the room, her bed-head about three times its normal size, and dark circles haunting her eyes. A quick glance at her bed showed me the diary was still with her, stuffed under her pillow just enough that you could barely see it.

"Oh, morning, Willow," Max said apprehensively, looking shocked. Willow didn't acknowledge her, moving sluggishly past her into the bathroom. We stared after her, not speaking until the door clicked shut.

"When did she get back in?" Tammy whispered. Max shrugged.

"Maybe Madame Pomfrey thought she'd be safer here, given what happened last night..." Max suggested, glancing carefully at me; she hadn't forgotten my initial reaction, clearly. I ignored her, listening as the faucet turned on in the bathroom, and thought up a plan.

"Couldn't possibly," Tammy whispered back, watching the door, "If anything, the entire ordeal would've set the old witch on lock-down 一 no students in or out." The faucet turned off, and I sat up quickly.

"Hey, why don't you two go on ahead?" I said, standing up and reaching for a (hopefully) warm outfit from my wardrobe, "I'll meet you up there in a bit, just wanna wake myself up a bit first." The two looked at me, puzzled, and begin to argue, only to fall silent once more as Willow re-entered the room. I watched them closely as their eyes followed Willow from the bathroom door back to her bed.

"Guys," I said again, drawing their attention, "Really, I'll be right out." Max stared at me a moment, brows furrowed, but didn't respond; Tammy looked at me, then to Willow, then back to me again, her eyes showing hesitation and concern. Then she nodded.

"Alright, Rosie," she said, taking Max's elbow and leading her to the exit, "We'll save you a seat, okay?" She turned to Willow, who remained silent as she changed into clean clothes for the day. "You too, Willow… if you want…" She didn't respond, pulling a yellow sweater on over her head with a vacant expression. Tammy just sighed, and pulled Max from the room, shutting the door behind them. I looked over at Willow as I pulled out the last of my outfit, laying them out over my bed.

_She probably doesn't even know what's going on,_ I thought, _I have to try and talk to her._

"Hey, Willow?" I said, hesitant. She paused for a moment, but simply continued on in silence. "Are you… mad at me?" She stopped, as if frozen for a moment, then barely turned her head over her shoulder 一 not quite facing me, but enough to speak in my direction.

"What gave you that idea?" she asked; her voice was quiet and scratchy, as if she'd been up late crying. I felt a lump in my throat, and choked it down as best I could. _My fault._

"It's just that…" I hesitated, taking a small step closer to her; I knew that the diary was what was causing her current mood change, but I still wasn't sure why or how she got the diary in the first place. I still needed answers as to what lead her to the diary to begin with, "You haven't really talked to me 一 or anyone else, really 一 since the quidditch tryouts. Did I really upset you that much? I know you weren't exactly happy about me wanting to play..." I saw her back stiffen, her head turning back to face away from me.

"... I'm not mad at you, Rosie…" Willow whispered. She turned around and sat on the edge of her bed, looking down at her feet.

"Then why have you been avoiding me?" I moved to sit across from her on my own bunk, right where I could see the diary peeking out under her pillow. She began to fidget, playing with a string hanging from her sleeve.

"...Willow?" She stood up suddenly, turning to quickly begin filling a bag with a few books and some parchment, blocking my view of the diary entirely. She pulled the bag over her shoulder and made for the door, pausing again as she grabbed the handle, not looking in my direction.

"It's…" she stammered, and looked over at me. Her face had thinned more than I had noticed before, and her eyes, normally with a spark of life twinkling in them, were blank and devoid of any light. Her lip quivered, and I could tell that she _wanted_ to tell me, to explain everything that had happened.

But she didn't.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, turning away again, "I just can't talk about it yet. I'm so sorry." With that, she pulled the door open and rushed out of sight, the door slamming shut behind her. I sighed again, and moved back over between mine and Willow's beds. I looked over at her things, the unmade bed and rumpled pjs she left behind, and grabbed the pillow. I lifted in up to look underneath, though I knew I would find nothing.

The diary was gone.

* * *

I sat alone at breakfast, telling the girls I needed a moment to think. I had claimed the end of the Ravenclaw table, a half-empty plate in front of me as I leaned over a bit, looking over my copy of Hogwarts: A History in silence.

_**"Salazar Slytherin disagreed with the other Hogwarts founders about the importance of Blood Purity and the acceptance of Muggle-borns at Hogwarts. As the other Founders were against him in this matter, Slytherin left the school. According to legend, before he left, Slytherin created a secret chamber deep underground in Hogwarts Castle — known as the Chamber of Secrets.** _

_**"That Chamber was also allegedly the home of a monstrous beast, one who was supposed to purge the school of all Muggle-borns. Unfortunately, neither the beast nor even the existence of such a chamber has yet to be found. Over the centuries after Slytherin's departure from the school, many Headmasters conducted searches of the castle to find the Chamber. None, however, were successful, and the Chamber was dismissed as a mere legend by many."**_

********

********

I stabbed a fork at my eggs.

"Of all the books at this school, the only one with any halfway-decent information on this chamber only has two paragraphs, neither of which contain any useful knowledge. Great." I grumbled to myself, shutting the book before shoveling food into my mouth in restrained frustration. I looked up at the door, watching as students began filing out to enjoy their free day. Of the students I saw, a mass of dark, wild curls began hurrying to the door. I sat up, swallowing.

"Hermione!" The curls stopped, and she turned to look over at me as I started to waved her over. She stopped in front of me, and I passed her my book.

"What's this?" she asked. I shrugged.

"You didn't bring yours, right?" I said, "Something about too many other books to bring this year?" She frowned a bit, taking the book from me.

"Yes…" she hesitated, "How did you know?" _Shit._ I took another bite of food, stalling as I quickly thought up a cover. _I need to quit doing this, I can't possibly be_ this _stupid, can I?_

"I'm pretty sure one of you three mentioned it at some point," I waved it off, "Or someone else did; I barely had room for it myself. Anyway, it's about the only book around that mentions _anything_ about this mysterious chamber, and the entire library stock is checked out for the next few weeks 一 figured if anyone could figure something out from this, it's you." She frowned at me, but took the book anyway.

"Thanks," she said, tucking the book under her arm, "So I take it this kind of thing doesn't normally happen at Ilvermorny, does it?" I shrugged.

"Not while I've been there, at least." _Not technically a lie._ I stood up from my seat, watching my plate clear and disappear from the table. "Hogwarts is definitely more exciting than back home, that's for sure. Well, I've got some work to do before practice, so I'll see you later, okay?" With a wave, I turned and headed out the door.

I decided to head towards the hospital wing, hoping to ask Madame Pomfrey about how Willow had been under her care.

_Now that I know Willow's been acting strange because of the diary, I need to find a way to keep an eye on her until I can get the diary back again._ I hurried up the staircase, turning down the halls 一 _corridors_ 一 until I reached the doors. Opening one, I glanced inside.

A few students, though not many, were laying on cots 一 likely getting over the flu that had spread through the castle over the past month. Behind a curtained area, I could just barely see the outline of a smaller bed, where I guessed the petrified Mrs. Norris was being tended to. On the other side of the room was the door to what was probably the supply closet; the nurse-witch herself walked out of there holding a few rounded vials, glancing over at me as I finally stepped into the room.

"Not taking any visitors at the moment," she asked, not even stopping as she handed the vials to the students on the cots, "What do you need? A Pepperup potion, too, no doubt."

"Oh, no, ma'am," I said, walking up to her, "I was just wondering if you could tell me how my friend has been doing. She said she's been in here a lot."

"Who is this friend, dear?"

"Um, Willow," I said, "I don't know her last name. But she's in Hufflepuff, third year." Madame Pomfrey never stopped doing her work, giving her patients their potions and words of caution even as she thought of my question.

"She came in a few times for a potion, for her cold, but she never stayed too long," the matron said finally.

"So, she's never stayed here overnight? For anything?" I was confused. _If she hasn't been here, then has she been sneaking off with the diary this whole time?_

"No, though I had said she should many times now," Madame Pomfrey responded with an expression that, had I seen it on anyone else, would have been considered a pout, "If she's not feeling well next you see her, you send her right back here, you understand?" I nodded to her, then turned to head out of the room.

"I'll be sure to let her know," I said, giving a small wave over my shoulder, "Thanks for letting me know." With that, I quickly retreated before she could ask me any of her own questions regarding my inquiries.

_So she's been sneaking the diary from my stuff,_ I listed, _angering and getting scratched by my cat in the process. Then she's been getting potions from Pomfrey to seem more normal, and then sneaking off at night to… open the chamber?_

"But why?" I whispered, stopping in the empty hall; for all I knew of the story, I still didn't have an answer for why she took the diary in the first place, "How'd she even find it?"

_I need to get to the bottom of this… But where do I start?_ So many options, so many different ways to fail; one idea 一 the image of myself, writing on the blank pages 一blared in my mind, a horrible idea, no doubt, but possibly the best option I had. I shoved it quickly to the back of my mind, it would be too dangerous to risk any version of Voldemort finding out what I knew.

_I just need to get the diary back, and then I can focus on why she took it. Once she's safe, once Hogwarts is safe, then everything will be alright again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Sorry this took so long, but I finally had the chance - between school and being sick - to finish this chapter! I will try and work on the next chapter as soon as I can, but I start school back on the 8th, so it might take a while. Thank you so much for being patient for this long! Let's make this new year a great one!


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